


If Time Was Still

by JessicaDoom



Series: Always the Same Mistakes [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Asexual Character, Asexual Charlie Weasley, Auror Harry Potter, Bottom Draco, Case Fic, Child Murder, Established Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Extramarital Affairs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Semi-Sex Positive, Stolen Moments, Top Charlie Weasley, oops a baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-05 08:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13383888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaDoom/pseuds/JessicaDoom
Summary: But in the end, self-preservation never did seem to be his strong suit.And Harry Potter had always been his weakness.Four years after watching the love of his life marry another, Draco is still reeling. What he and Harry once had now only exists in secret, stolen moments. A compromise in danger of breaking when a particularly difficult case crosses Draco's path. He enlists the help of his ex, sending them both down a path neither of them could have prepared for. The past comes back in unexpected ways, once again unsettling the fragile balance of happiness and destiny.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rather proud of myself for getting this out in the time frame promised! As far as I am aware, this will be the last installment in the series. I don't know how many chapters it will be, yet, but I do have at least a few planned. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy! Please be sure to leave a comment with your kudos and let me know what you're thinking and thanks for reading!

 

Shea's lifestyle being what it was, all he had ever asked for was honestly.

Draco being the mess that he was, found that too easy of a promise to break.

"Oh, gods, yeah…do that again. Right there." A chuckle from behind ruffled the hair right at Draco's ear, causing a shiver to run straight down his spine. "Oh, don't you fucking laugh at me. This week has been…uhn, shit…longer than you can imagine."

"Oh, the drama of your life."

"Drama, indeed. The boy is teething. Our new neighbors always seem to be at the house, asking questions and trying to make nice. Work has been…. This latest case is a lot to handle. I'm fucking exhausted…." He sighed heavily before letting loose with another deep, guttural noise. "That's it…."

"And how's the boyfriend?"

"Which one?"

This time, the laugh was sharp and grating. Definitely meant as an insult. Feeling the tension come back tenfold, Draco shrunk away from the pressure. "Sorry, I just didn't know that's what I was." The apology was a bit stale. Forced. But true. They had never said what this was, let alone give it such an intense label.

And just like that, the fragile bubble surrounding their secret place shattered. The mood and glamor were gone completely. Sighing heavily, Draco pulled away and gave up all hope of pretending his problems ended at the door. "I was joking. Obviously."

Harry was wearing a sickening grin when Draco turned around to face him. "No you weren't," he whispered, snapping shut the bottle of massage oil. "Not really, anyway. I know how you think of me."

Draco was actually rather glad this wasn't  _something_. It meant that he could leave whenever he damn well pleased. And that time had come now. Dusk was just starting to fall outside, so it was probably time, anyway. He had spent too long here and now it was back to the real world. Away from those sturdy hands and desire-lidden stolen glances. "Don't presume to know me, Potter," he chided, pulling himself up out of the bed. The first time he'd really left it over the entire weekend. It felt so wrong. Like he was leaving behind some vital part of himself.

It always felt that way. He really should be used to it by now.

"Not quite a presumption. More of a fact culminated over time." Harry relaxed back against his headboard, eager to go nowhere. Not that he had to. The clean-up from their time spent away never left him running away. He always had the freedom of remaining naked and right at home. "I know you, Draco Malfoy. I used to be a bit obsessed with you, you know."

Rolling his eyes, Draco made short work of redressing. "It's not like you were good at keeping that a secret."

With a shrug, Harry sunk further into the pillows. Despite their relaxing day of lazing and relaxing, he looked as if he was worn absolutely thin. "Try not to let the dogs loose, this time, will you? Last time I had to chase them halfway to the next village."

And that was that.

Draco nodded, swallowing his retort as well as a heartbreaking goodbye. He'd learned long ago that soft kisses and whispered 'next time's only served to leave them in pieces.

Not that he didn't already feel that way, anyway.

It had now been four years since that rushed fuck that changed everything. Four years since the collapse of Draco's life as he had come to know it. Four years since he'd confessed what had happened to Shea, tears and snot dripping down his face. Four years since he was sure that was the end. Four years since the man merely laughed and took him back home. Four years since the most understanding person his life tried (and unfortunately failed) to put Draco Malfoy back together again.

And four years later, Shea was still there. Trying.

They had moved on and up with their lives. No longer was Draco trying to shut out the magical world. He finished what little was left of his potioneer training, eventually accepting a job with MACUSA. And, when his talent and previous Auror training was noticed, eventually he accepted a promotion as well. Lead Investigator in the Potions Crime Unit. Along with the promotion came a change in scenery. For nearly three years now, they had been working on settling into the drastic difference of a New York suburb.

Also along with the promotion came a celebration. Perhaps too much and too wild of a celebration. And out of that celebration came the most unexpected and beautiful gift Draco could ever ask for.

A gift that nearly bowled him over the instant he apparated onto the back stoop. Caught off-guard, Draco stumbled backwards. He tripped over his own feet, his backside hitting the grass with an indelicate 'oof'.

"Daddy!" the toddler exclaimed, following him down to the ground. Like it was some sort of game. He giggled, snuggling into Draco's side.

As much as Draco wanted to be upset, he just couldn't manage it. The boy missed him; that was for certain. But Draco had missed him, as well. Every time he was away, he came back desperately starved of this child's shining face. The face that was currently in the midst of a full, rashy breakout. "Oh, Scorpius, my sensitive prince…. Who's left you all on your own to play in the grass?"

Somewhere behind him in the yard came a heavy sigh. "He's not on his own, Draco. I'm watching him. Already noticed the hives. He's had some allergy medicine – he should be fine in a few minutes." Astoria shuffled through the grass, coming to rest right behind Draco's head. She leaned into his direct eye-line, the absolute definition of steamed. He was willing to bet she hadn't slept well since he left. "You don't have to pretend like he doesn't get properly parented while you're away."

Less than a minute.

He had been home less than a minute and already he could feel that tension settling back into his shoulders. He pulled Scorpius closer, working to balance the boy and his overnight bag as he tried to stand back up. "Wasn't meant as a personal attack, Love," he muttered while settling the boy on his hip. "And I've brewed a salve for his skin. You should use that instead of the Muggle shit."

"Whatever. It's just been me and the baby for the last three days. He won't sleep. He won't eat. All he wanted was to sit out here and wait for you." Astoria carded her fingers through her short, dark hair in frustration. She looked exhausted. She looked frail. Frailer than normal. And that was in part his fault. "It's your fucking turn. I'm going to bed."

Just as he had assumed, Shea was still gone. He had been for a few weeks, now. And every single time they spoke, he never had an idea on when he would be back. The book tour his agent had scheduled was apparently neverending. They kept adding in dates and events. And Shea kept saying 'yes'.

Which was just fine with Draco. The less he saw of their partner, the less guilt ate away at him. Especially right after one of these stolen weekends.

"That's alright," Draco whispered, following Astoria into the house. She disappeared up the stairs and he settled Scorpius in his high chair. "We don't need Mumma. We don't need Papa, neither. We're fine on our own, aren't we?" The boy grinned, his grey eyes shining with mischief. "Exactly. We got this. We're going to get you some lunch and then we'll grab a nap."

"F'ck noooooo!"

Draco snorted, secretly proud that they couldn't break him of this favorite phrase. "Fuck, yes. Daddy's tired. Daddy did…a lot of work this weekend…."

In a way, this was true. It just wasn't the type of work be pretended it was. Official work. It was…emotional and physical work. Work that cleansed his soul and made coming home bearable. Work that left him drained, not just in the physical sense but also deeper within.

~*~

_It was the first time Draco had set foot in the British Isles since his latest desperate escape. It felt wrong coming back, just like it had last time. He was a part of an almost entirely different world now. But…not, at the same time. He was back to the world be had grown up in. He fit in now better than he did two years ago, pretending to be a mere Muggle. He had a job and a purpose in life that didn't have anything to do with Harry Bloody Potter, Saint of the Wizarding World._

_This was what he told himself, anyway._

" _If you want to eat, I could hold the child you."_

_Pulling out of his ever-distracted haze, Draco looked up. His mother, sitting across the table from him, looked almost out of it herself. Like she'd forgotten her own countenance. A smile was even pushing at her lips._

_But Draco was sure he must look near the same._

_The newborn in his arms had been in his life for less than a month and already Draco knew he might never be the same. This innocent, blinking up at him with his own light grey eyes, had carved out a soft spot somewhere inside of him. Probably the same spot that had felt so empty for so many years._

_Reluctant to give away the small bundle of warmth, Draco reached for his fork. This was why he had come home, in the first place. Once the shock of the announcement settled, his parents were surprisingly eager to meet their grandchild. More eager than the Greengrasses had been. If they were thinking it, neither Narcissa nor Lucius ever threw out the word 'bastard'. He was willing to give them the chance Astoria wasn't offering to her own parents._

_But now that they were sitting here in the restaurant (a restaurant of the caliber that didn't exactly welcome children), Draco was feeling hesitant. Not that he didn't want his parents in Scorpius' life. Not that he didn't trust them. It was just…._

_Did he have to share the feeling this child gave him? Couldn't he selfishly keep it to himself?_

" _It's alright; I'm managing."_

" _If only Astoria had accompanied you. It really is more of her job than yours…."_

_Draco sighed heavily, silently thankful that he had opted for a hotel room this time around. As kind as they were trying to be, there were still the same, broken problems. The same way of thinking that had poisoned them all his life. "I'm fairly certain that since I helped create the baby, I can probably handle caring for him." He could feel his father's eyes on him – judging him. "Besides…Astoria could use a small break."_

_She didn't have to, but Astoria insisted on working. She insisted that it gave her purpose. She insisted that Draco was too traditional and he should want her to do it. She insisted he should want her to be independent, if he loved her in any form of the word._

_She also insisted that she didn't have any ill post-partum thoughts. That she loved the boy. That she was just tired and needed less time with him. With them. With anyone._

_She insisted that she was fine. Draco wasn't quite convinced._

_Narcissa cleared her throat delicately, pushing away her plate. She, of course, looked around the restaurant first. Making sure no one was looking, even though they wouldn't care if they had been. They wouldn't have known what they were looking at anyway. "In all honesty, Draco, I am just trying to be politely selfish. I really would love to hold my grandson."_

" _As would I."_

_It wasn't as if the Malfoy family were genetically predisposed to have no feelings. They just…weren't overly showy. They didn't give a lot away. It was an old way of thinking. A Pureblood 'tradition'. Something that prevented…complications. A necessity of protection against vulnerability. Growing up in the time he had – after one war and just before another – Draco had definitely been raised in a cold home._

_His parents were stuck in their decisions and values. And he had just assumed they still would be. That they would treat his son just as they had treated him. Loving but a bit aloof._

_Draco tried as hard as he could to keep the shock from his face. He avoided eye contact to try and keep a bit of composure. But it didn't work. He couldn't hide how his father's simple statement hit him. And his parents took notice._

" _Unless you don't trust us," Narcissa whispered, her own voice betraying something just a bit cracked. "Which…I suppose could be justified. Especially considering how Levana and Silas are handling things." She cleared her throat again, just barely holding her opinions behind her teeth. "We are not like them, I assure you. The way they speak of the child…." Her nose wrinkled in something akin to disgust._

_They had received several letters from Astoria's parents that said just how they spoke of Scorpius. The fact that Draco's parents saw this as something deplorable helped to settle the unease in him. Maybe they deserved this chance, after all._

" _Would you like to watch Scorpius for the night, then?"_

_Her face lighting up with child-like excitement, Narcissa nodded emphatically. "I think we would love that, Draco."_

_Nothing about the way this trip was going had been planned. It was just supposed to be a quick visit. A taste of how his parents were feeling about the situation. Just a taste. Something he could easily walk away from._

_But Draco hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected raw emotion and honesty. And he hadn't expected to cave. And he hadn't expected to be left at the end of the night with nothing but his nagging worries to accompany him._

_Being alone was the dangerous part._

_The thought to make contact had been nagging Draco since he decided to make this trip. He had already promised Shea that he wouldn't. It wasn't healthy – they had both agreed. Together._

_And Draco was quite skilled at doing what was bad for him._

_The familiar ache of regret was starting to settle deep within him. He'd only just sent the letter a moment before. The borrowed barn owl had only just flown out the window, its soft squawk still stuck in his eardrums. A warning cry. A judgement. Even that thing knew he was being reckless._

_But he just…couldn't help it. The temptation was too close. It was too real to be in the same country._

_His letter had asked for company. For a sympathetic ear. An open mind and gentle heart. Something he didn't even come close to deserving. But he asked anyway._

_And the reply was destined to shatter him, no matter the tone or content. No matter if he showed up or not. Either way, he was walking out of this under a dark cloud. Either way, he felt like he might not recover this time. This could be the last time, if he wasn't careful. If he didn't start being a little smarter._

_Cold. He should be cold. He could stand to feel a little less._

_He could stand to be a little less open._

_He could stand to close himself off to preserve what he had left._

_But in the end, self-preservation never did seem to be his strong suit._

_And Harry Potter had always been his weakness._

_Even as he appeared in the fireplace of Draco's hotel room, two years after having seen one another last, there was no hope for him to forget that. It felt like all the air had been pushed straight from his lungs. He couldn't breathe at the sight of that man. He couldn't move. He couldn't_ think _. All he could manage was a hollow rattle in the back of his throat and an unsettled shifting of his feet._

" _I'm starting to think this is going to be a recurring nightmare with you."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update?? So soon?? It must be a damn miracle. I hope you're all excited as I am about this! And I hope you all enjoy! Be sure to leave a comment with your thoughts! Can't wait for everyone to see where this all goes....

 

The bed still smelt like him.

But that scent never went away. It was stuck in Harry's nose. It was nestled into his brain. It was like an incurable headache. It was there all the fucking time.

Draco Fucking Malfoy was always there. Just on the edge of his damnable subconscious.

Startling at a knock to the bedroom door, Harry pushed the covers away. He slammed his eyes shut, feigning sleep once again.

"Harry? Darling? Are you still asleep?" Harry shifted just barely, giving a non-committal groan. "Andromeda's just dropped Teddy off. Didn't know if maybe you'd like to come down for dinner?" He felt a pressure dip near the other side of the bed, but made no move in response. "If you're too tired, I understand. It's just…I'm only here for the night, Harry. I would like to spend some time with you."

Charlie was only home in spurts. Short bursts that they were just expected to take advantage of. And the rest of the time, they were just meant to ignore the loneliness. They were just supposed to accept it as it was.

Deep down, Harry harbored a dark hatred for this. He resented his husband for leaving him on his own.

But on the surface, he couldn't stay angry. "I might be willing to come out…if you'd like to try and wake me up…."

Harry could feel the room shift around them. The implication had been heavy in his voice and Charlie's unease was palpable. "Um…I hope it's okay that I ordered pizza. It's what Teddy asked for. And, you know," the bed creaked as he hastily stood, "I should get back. The delivery man could show up any moment."

"You could just…say 'no', you know?" Harry sat up slowly, leveling a look in the dark at the shadow next to him. "You don't have to make up excuses. I won't get mad if you just tell me you don't want to."

Harry was sure he had said this a thousand times in the span of their relationship. He tried to remind Charlie every time the chance presented itself. Which was often. Charlie sighed, nodding and scrubbing a hand over his beard. "I know, Harry. It's just…I hate to see the look on your face when you're being rejected. You always look like I've just popped a balloon in your face. And I'm sorry. I really am."

"Please stop apologizing," Harry whispered. "It's fine. Honestly. I just…. I'll never know when you are feeling open to it…if I don't ask. Right?"

The amount of times that had worked out in Harry's favor was exactly three.

Their wedding night, a random rainy Tuesday two years ago, and the day that Teddy nearly died.

That was nearly a year ago. It was a silly thing. A silly, stupid thing. The boy had been playing in the field behind the house and had tripped. Harry and Charlie were having an argument in the house. Something stupid. Something absolutely ridiculous and trivial. Harry couldn't even remember what now. And in the time they weren't paying attention, that young boy tripped and hit his head on a sharp rock.

Blood.

There had been so much blood.

It was the first time Harry had felt the real panic of losing his godson. It was the only time he ever wanted to feel that again. He never wanted to see that boy walk through that door again with blood on his face and tears in his eyes. He never wanted to see him crumple to the floor like a rag doll ever again.

They had stayed at St. Mungo's with the boy for as long as they could that night. The rock had pierced more than just skin. Everyone kept reminding them that he was lucky to be alive. Just a few more minutes could have meant the end of it. If he had passed out in that field, there never would have been a chance. They never would have known that he needed help.

He would have been dead. Out of their lives forever.

It was reckless.

And reckless called for abandon.

By the time they arrived home, the adrenaline and terror just…crashed. And they crashed.

And Harry had ached for it ever since. He truly did love his husband. He was kind and attentive and gorgeous. He had such a gentle touch for someone so indelicate. And the way he made Harry feel that day, taking control and roughly fucking away their fear…. Touching him darkly and filling him up. Trying to make him forget how sickly worried he was just for a moment.

The…"arrangement" with Draco kept Harry satisfied. It kept him sated and on the edge of happiness. Maybe just slightly over it. But that night with Charlie had almost been enough to make him forget his first love. If he ever had any hope for moving on, he was going to keep trying with his husband. He was going to keep hoping to feel that way just one more time in his life.

The doorbell chimed before Charlie could get out a reply. He managed a soft kiss with an apologetic smile before running out to answer it. Even after these last few years – tough and trying as they were – that kiss still left him breathless.

Smiling gently, Harry pulled himself out of the bed that still smelt like his lover. Pulling himself back into the real world again. "Hey, Dad!" Teddy greeted him, just barely looking up from his sketch pad. "Nan and I picked out some new pencils. They're really smooth. Really nice."

"Yeah? That's good." Harry smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of the boy's head. His hair was still a shocking magenta. The same shade his mother used to wear. A shock to everyone from day one until now. He'd seen a picture of Tonks very recently, one taken just before her passing. The realness seemed to have stunned him a bit. And now…it was just stuck.

"I still can't get it to go away," Teddy whispered. "But that's okay. Nan said she likes it." He smiled, a little sadness glazing his eyes.

Harry kissed the pink strands once more, lingering just a moment longer. "It's okay, kiddo. You'll figure it out eventually."

"Alright, boys, let's get this night started!"

The jingle of nametags were the only alert before the attack. The dog – a petite Staffordshire bull terrier – came barreling back in from the front yard, all wagging tail and dripping tongue. "Oh, shit!" Harry exclaimed, taking his full force right in the chest. Not a moment later, a fluffy Australian shepherd rushed in as well, vying for full attention.

"Albus! James!" Teddy laughed, scrambling to his feet to try and help. "Down! Get  _down_ , boys!"

Charlie grinned, watching from the kitchen as he dished up dinner. Teddy's giggles were only serving to rile the dogs up more and Harry couldn't apparently pet them fast enough.

It was a typical night when they were all home. Laughter and good food and creatures always in their personal space. A quiet night that ended in all three of them plus both dogs piled in Harry and Charlie's bed – the one with the ornate carvings in the wood frame. The one that didn't belong to any of them, but they kept as a reminder of what they had struggled with before they got here.

And they woke in the morning, all in that same bed still. Enjoying the last few moments they had before the day started and they all parted ways. Moments like this felt few and far between and would only increase in rarity as the years went by.

It was this thought that nagged at Harry's mind as he settled into his office that morning. Teddy was off to school in a short while. They had until the end of the summer before everything would change. Before their quiet nights all together would become something entirely different. Something potentially stiff and potentially awkward. Something he wasn't sure could survive without that third piece holding them together. But something he desperately wanted to hold onto.

Sighing, Harry shook his head and turned back to work. As with any Monday, there was a fresh new stack of papers on his desk. The world never stopped, even when he had to be away from it. Bad things still happened every single day, even when he wanted to forget it. Even when he wanted to be removed of them. And this was always his harsh reminder. The paper trail of the crimes solved in his absence. The danger everyone else was in while he was home safe.

"Mr. Potter?"

He looked up at his assistant, a bit bleary-eyed but wearing a soft smile. "Gina, we've talked about this. Please just call me 'Harry'." She nodded in assent. "What can I do for you?"

"There's someone here to see you," the woman said gently, almost like she was afraid he would object. Like she had already been trying to tell whoever was waiting that he wasn't available. Which he wasn't, usually, except to a few certain people. People within the department and the Wizengamot members. But otherwise, Monday mornings were for exactly this – quiet time and catching up. He didn't have room for much else.

"Was this scheduled?" Harry questioned, sitting back in his chair and flipping open a file.

She shook her head slowly. "No, sir. But they're from MACUSA and I was told to make time. Is…is that alright?"

Harry nodded just barely, holding his tongue. It wasn't her fault. She was too sweet and easy to trample over. "Let them in," he submitted, knowing full-well who was on the other side of the door. Knowing that Gina didn't stand a chance if they were made to wait a moment longer.

The door closed for just a moment, muffled voices coming from the other side. And when it opened again, all he needed was a glimpse of that dumb blonde hair to confirm his suspicions. "I thought we had agreed that you wouldn't come here. Never in the office. You were party to that discussion, weren't you? You were there?"

Draco cleared his throat, the picture of discomfort. "I assure you, I'm here strictly on business," he said through clearly-gritted teeth.

"Ah, Mr. Potter! Such a pleasure to meet you, at last!"

Harry was making such a show of not looking at Draco that he completely missed a second man walking into the room. Trying to conceal his shock, he stood straight up and looked between the two. Draco, definitely there in his office where he shouldn't be. And the other, a broader man with an absolutely out of control salt-and-pepper beard. He was quite a bit older than his counterpart and definitely thought himself a big deal. Maybe he even  _was_  a big deal. "Erm…and you are…?" he asked delicately.

The man extended his hand with a boisterous grin. "Of course! You have no idea who I am! It's not like I've saved the world, or anything!" Very cautiously, Harry completed the handshake. "My name is Deacon Bates and I am, as you would put it, young Draco's boss. But, you see, I don't like that term. We're colleagues in MACUSA's Potions Crime Unit. Of which I'm the head…." He ended his long explanation with a wink.

No situation Harry turned over in his head could explain why this pair was standing in his office. He opened and closed his mouth several times, like a fish out of water. In the meantime, Draco shuffled his feet and tried not to meet his gaze. He didn't appear to like the idea of being here, either.

"I see the way you're looking at me. I should explain myself," Deacon hastened to add. "You see, we have a case that has crossed over your borders recently. A case we are particularly eager to wrap up as well as keep quiet. And, you see, Draco highly recommended you. You may want to warn your husband, Mr. Potter; I think he may have a bit of a crush on you."

Before, the tension in the room was subtle. Just barely there, but still noticeable. Now…. Draco was physically bristled. His jaw was squared and his hands were angry fists. Which, of course, meant that Harry just had to answer.

"Considering Draco was the one who left when he and I were dating, I'd say my marriage is probably safe."

It was Deacon's turn to flounder. And Draco now looked like he was ready to pass out. Or punch Harry in the face. Yet to be determined.

"I was not aware…that the two of you had…."

"That would be because I don't share my personal business around the office," Draco muttered, once again through his teeth. "And I would appreciate not sharing it here. As I said before, our visit is purely business."

Three days previous, Draco was in his home. He was pulling off Harry's wedding band with his teeth. He was on his knees, Harry's fingers coursing through his hair. Mussing his perfect image. His cheeks were hollowing out around Harry's cock. He had looked so sinful when their eyes met.

Two days previous, Draco had been spread open in front of him on Harry's back porch. Harry begged him to stay another night. He begged him and Draco begged back. Begged to be fucked. Begged to forget. Begged to feel like it was only them in that little world they had built for themselves. And when he came hard under the stars, he agreed to give Harry more time. Just one more night.

One day previous, Draco stayed longer than just the night. He stayed in bed with Harry, feeding one another breakfast. Complaining about the life he had run away to. Taking for granted what he should hold onto. And ultimately leaving without so much as a goodbye.

But now, here he was in Harry's office, talking about privacy. To him, it sounded ridiculous.

"Well, this took a bit of an awkward turn," Deacon laughed, his expression not quite matching the mirth. "I apologize for the distasteful joke. As Draco said, we are only here in a professional manner. Perhaps we should stick to only that topic of conversation." Very slowly, he settled into one of the chairs on the other side of Harry's desk.

Harry swallowed his opinions. He swallowed his objections. He swallowed anything he might want to say to Draco in that moment. He also sat back down, nodding carefully. Keeping his words in check.

Draco was the only one to keep standing. Keeping his distance over by the door.

"How is it that I can help MACUSA, Mr. Bates?" Harry asked coolly, attempting to keep the panic from his voice. Attempting to keep himself together with the elephant still very much in the room. "And please make it quick. I do have a lot of work to get done today."

Deacon dropped his charming smile in favor of a stern glare. Harry had been, apparently, right in thinking that this man felt himself quite important. Apparently important enough that he shouldn't be talked to in such a manner. "Is the rumor that you only do desk work a correct one?"

"It's no rumor. That would be a fact. While my godson still lives with me, I have promised to keep off of cases. It puts my family at better ease." A small smile cracked Harry's lips. "I have a bit of a penchant for…walking into danger. As I'm sure most of our world already knows."

Laughing politely, Deacon adjusted in his seat. "It is a bit of a known fact, yes. That is such a beautiful gesture, but you see…I need you to help us work a case."

Rather pointedly, Harry reached out to straighten the sign on his desk. The one that declared him as " _Harry Potter – Department Coordinator_ ". "I'm certain I could  _assign_  someone to help you with this case. Someone who does field work. But I don't do that, myself. I sit here. I go to meetings. And, occasionally, I do an interview or two. For that, I just have to go down the hall a few doors. That's it."

"Again, that's all fine and dandy, but I'm going to have to insist. You see, Mr. Potter, I need someone who can devote all of his time to this. Someone who has no current caseload. And I need the best. I've been told you're the best. This is why I'm here and I would really appreciate it if you wouldn't shoot us down."

Something between venom and plea laced Draco's words. "A lot of innocent lives depend on this. I know that means something to you." The words 'Saint Potter' were miraculously left off the end. Harry chocked that up to an immense use of restraint. Draco loved to throw those words around.

That did mean something to Harry. He could already feel himself squirming in his own skin. Ready to agree. But he had promised Teddy. He had promised his boy that he would be home more. Coming off of field work meant regular hours and nights at home. It meant a real and stable life for a boy who had already been through  _way_  too much. It would be entirely unfair to rescind that promise so short after making it. But not helping here…with that guilt now sitting on his conscience, that also felt inherently wrong.

"If I'm going to agree," Harry started, clarifying himself when Deacon started to look pleased with himself, "and that is only an  _if_  at this point, I need to know a couple things. I need to know, first, that I will not be put directly into harm's way. If I accept this case, I need to be able to look in my boy's face and tell him everything will be okay. That the time I give up for him won't result in me never coming home.

"And, second, I need to know the details of the case. I need to know what I might be signing up for."

"You see, that's top secret," Deacon said quickly.

Harry snorted, relaxing back in his chair. He made a show of picking up a file folder, flipping through the papers with feigned interest. "Then the both of you are welcome to leave. There are plenty of active Aurors in this department. I'm sure you won't have a single problem finding one to fit your special needs."

A scuffle of quick footsteps preceded a quick exchange of words. It was like Harry was watching a verbal tennis match.

"Draco, don't you d-"

"We  _need_  him, Deacon! We-"

"He's right! We could find someone else. We had some back-ups…."

"Oh, come on! Our back-ups were bullshit at best."

"Not all of them! We had…."

Draco sighed heavily, turning to Harry, looking very much like he was ready to settle up. "Look, Harry, people are dying. Innocent people. We could really use your expertise. This guy-"

With a harsh wand wave and a sharp squeak, Draco found his mouth moving without being able to say a word. He clutched his throat before looking at Deacon incredulously. He managed a nonverbal spell of his own, causing every single paper to fly right out of the man's briefcase. "That is incredibly professional, Mr. Malfoy!" he shouted as the other stalked out of the office in a huff.

Where there was once an electric, heated buzz in the room, there was now a drastically different stillness. Both Deacon and Harry avoided looking at one another even as Deacon tried to apologize. "He's usually more restrained than this. I've never seen him act so reckless. This case is getting to him on a personal level. He's not handling the darkness well."

"He doesn't know  _how_  to handle darkness," Harry whispered, scrubbing roughly at his face. The morning had only just begun and he was already exhausted by this day. "Look, I'll probably help. It's why Draco said to come to me…. He knows I won't say 'no' when he throws guilt in my face." He made a frustrated noise, already preparing what he would say to Teddy. "I  _am_  going to help you. I just need to know what that entails."

With a slow nod, Deacon waved his wand. His papers shuffled back together into a neat little pile, right before Harry's hands. "Alright…. You're welcome to review the files yourself; I'll leave them for you. I can give you the jist of it. You see…." He cleared his throat, squaring himself up for what he had to explain. "No-Maj children are dying, Mr. Potter. Young children. None of them are older than ten. All boys. Thirteen thus far in America and…one here. In Yorkshire, to be exact. And, you see, we only just recently caught the case. The way the boys are dying…."

Harry's mouth went dry. He found he didn't know what to say, but knew he ached to say  _something_. To mutter an apology or bite out…something. But what was there  _to_  say? "Do you mind?" was all he could manage, pulling out his pack of cigarettes.

"No, not at all." Deacon shook his head slowly. "Um…I know you're wondering why we're keeping it a secret. We just don't want to cause a panic. And…we don't have any leads other than the traces of poison left in the children's systems. You see, it's a forbidden potion that no one should have the means to brew. The ingredients are rare as well as illegal. And now that it's jumped into another country…we are  _very_  eager to get this wrapped up. Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated, Mr. Potter. I've been told you're an excellent Auror."

Nodding slowly, Harry stood from his chair. He was making his way to the door without even thinking about it. "Just…give me a minute, please. I need to speak with Draco before I fully agree. Excuse me." He blew a hasty puff of smoke, stubbing his cigarette out on the back of the door.

His head spinning, he settled back against the wood of the door for a moment. Trying to settle his raging thoughts. Trying to make sense of this day that had started so normal. Luckily Draco hadn't gone far because Harry just didn't have the composure to go searching. "Where did you send Gina?" he asked. The other man had settled into his assistant's desk, seemingly in the middle of writing a letter.

"I sent her for tea." Draco stood, sealing the letter and sending it away with a charm. He managed to still Harry's erratic breathing with the same, entrancing motion.

How was it that after all they had been through, he could still find solace in his presence?

"Don't they wear robes at MACUSA?" Harry whispered, trying to lighten his own mood. He felt drastically overdressed near the man.

Draco was wearing a tie, Harry had just noticed. A very silly tie. It was an iridescent gold color which suited his complexion miraculously. It made the silver of his eyes pop. But the silliness of the print – the playful little cats covering most of the fabric – almost wiped that fact away completely. The Draco he knew would never wear something so strange. But he was and he paired it with a perfectly tailored suit that just…completed him. Tiny cats and all.

Draco looked damn good in a suit.

Downright fuckable.

"Did he tell you?" Draco hissed in response, having no palate it seemed for anything playful. And with what Harry had just heard, he couldn't blame him. Once Harry nodded, he blew out a rough breath. "I didn't want to come here. I didn't want to cross this boundary. Especially after…." He looked around as if he was afraid they were going to be overheard. "But kids are dying and Deacon was desperate. So if you can try and remain professional…I can, too."

Their eyes met and both men knew in that instant what they were getting themselves into. This was more than a few intimate weekends. They would be seeing one another every day for an undetermined amount of time. This crossed boundaries they hadn't even known to set. It opened up doors of possibilities that hadn't even existed until this morning.

"You're Harry Fucking Potter. You'll have this case solved in no time."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is slightly later than the last. I took some time to read while I had some time off (Read "The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue" by Mackenzi Lee and if you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend it. It's a love story/grand adventure featuring a bisexual boy, a gay boy, and an asexual girl from Georgian England that features pirates and disabled characters and a wonderful love story. WHAT'S NOT TO ENJOY??)  
> Anywho, without further ado - the newest chapter! Please leave a comment with your thoughts, I always love to hear them!

 

"I am entirely too nice of a person!"

Harry's outburst exploded smack in the middle of another conversation he wasn't privy to. A conversation that may have been an argument. He wasn't entirely certain, but he also didn't really have the capacity to care in that moment. He was interrupting and it was rude…but he needed to vent.

"I don't think that anyone has ever thought any less," Hermione said on a soft sigh. Her shoulders were tense and the way she gripped the cleaver pretty much confirmed his suspicions. As did the way Ron's body hunched in on itself as he stood all the way across the kitchen.

"Voldemort might have, at some point," Harry muttered, pulling Teddy out of the fireplace once it roared to life behind him. "Why don't you go find your cousin and…play, or something."

His face screwing up in distaste, Teddy only clung closer to his godfather. "I don't want to go play with a baby. I'd rather stay here."

Harry breathed heavily, straightening the pink locks across the boy's forehead. "Fine…. You can go sit at the table and listen to me complain. But, just be warned, you had your chance to run." He grabbed the bag of potatoes off the counter, pushing them into Teddy's arms. "Peel these for your aunt Hermione, too."

"He doesn't have to do that," she whispered, wiping away a tear Harry had only just noticed trekking down her cheek. "I can manage, you know."

"I know."

It wasn't like he was barging in. Monday night dinners were a standing tradition. They had been doing this for years. That didn't mean, however, that in that moment Harry didn't feel like he wasn't coming in on the middle of something. He still felt like he was intruding. He had gifted his friends the house on Grimmauld Place after the birth of their daughter a couple years previous. It was just roomier than their little cottage in Halstead. And he hadn't been using it…. Technically he still owned the property…but it wasn't really his place to arrive unannounced. For the future, he made a mental note to owl ahead. Just in case.

"Well, are you going to tell us what prompted your revelation?" Hermione prodded into Harry's silence. "There's clearly something you're dying to get off your chest."

"Yeah, let's hear it," Ron added. His tone betrayed his desperation for a change of subject. Harry was willing to bet he had been losing whatever fight they were having.

He didn't always want to, but Harry was unconventionally good at stealing the spotlight. Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, he stole a look over at his godson. Teddy was dutifully doing as he had been told, but kept side-eyeing the adults. Like he was sure he was about to hear something children shouldn't be privy to. "Malfoy came to visit me at the office today," Harry whispered, not keen for him to overhear that particular bit.

"You saw Uncle Draco today?"

His cautions didn't matter. Teddy heard, anyway. His hearing was ridiculously well-tuned. "Fuck," he muttered, hanging his head for a moment. "Yeah, Teddy…I did," he affirmed, looking up for just a second. Just long enough to glimpse the look of glee in the boy's eyes before quickly averting his own. "Keep peeling your potatoes."

The peeler long-forgotten, Teddy was now staring at his godfather in full-blown excitement. He hadn't seen Draco much since the wedding. Just a couple of breakfasts out and one afternoon at a park. It was never enough for him. He always came back home begging for more time.

He never asked for more time with Charlie….

"You should have invited him for dinner."

"Teddy, can you just for  _once_  give the Draco thing a rest?" Harry snapped, waving his hand in the general direction of the table. "Peel the fucking potatoes.  _Please_."

As if the atmosphere wasn't already awkward….

The boy had always been docile. Harry was always silently grateful for that. He didn't yell back. He didn't hardly ever pitch a fit. He was a good kid. Right in that moment, he was no different. He settled back into the bench and meekly did as he was told.

And it felt wrong for Harry to be satisfied by that.

Clearly, Hermione felt much the same. She leveled a look at her friend that questioned his parenting skills (of which he still had rather few, in his defense) before a flick of her wand had completed the task for the boy. "Rose is down for a nap up in her room. If you're quiet, you may play with Ron's chess set in the library."

"I don't like chess," Teddy mumbled, setting down a now-skinless potato. Despite his protest, he slunk (not so quietly) out the door and up the stairs.

"I had a meeting earlier outside of the Ministry; I saw him apparate in as I was headed out," Hermione said as soon as he was gone. She looked over her shoulder at him, brow raised. Like she was waiting for a ball to drop. "What did he want with you?"

It was a loaded question. A loaded question with too many unspeakable answers. Harry steeled himself, avoiding any sort of eye contact. Cursing the blush that could so easily betray him. "Just…. Well, you know he works for MACUSA now. I told you that. He's like an Auror, I guess, for potion-based crimes. It's bizarre but incredibly in his wheelhouse."

Harry could feel the intensity with which they were both staring at him. He was uncomfortable, so he was prattling on. Neither of them cared much about these details. But if he kept talking about the boring stuff, he could keep himself calm. And it kept him from having to speak the hard truth.

He couldn't tell them.

As much as he wanted to explode with all of the information he'd learned today, he couldn't. It was classified. He had signed a magical-binding contract stating as such.

"He's asked me to assist on a case.  _MACUSA_ 's asked me to assist…. Apparently since I don't have any others in my load, it makes me the perfect candidate. They need someone who can put in their full focus…."

"What about Teddy? Won't that be a bit of a distraction to your 'full focus'?" Hermione asked gently. Of course, she would be the first to point out the one flaw nagging at him.

Turning an even deeper shade of red, Harry shuffled his feet. "It's an issue I'm still working on figuring out."

"Have you told my brother?"

As it pertained to his ex, Harry should have told his husband by now. He should have sent him a letter the instant he was approached. Asked his permission, maybe. As backwards and controlling as that sounded. "Not quite yet. I plan to fire-call him tonight and break the news."

"Speaking of breaking news…."

The strange strangulation that had only just subsided filled the air in a heated instant. Harry found himself unable to hold eye contact with either of his friends, their gazes each carrying an uncomfortable weight. More than likely, what was about to be shared had something to do with the fight he had walked into.

"Ron, not now," Hermione scolded, grabbing the soup pot and setting it heavily upon the table. "Dinner is ready; I'll go grab the children."

She stalked out of the room far faster than any innocent woman would. The look left on Ron's face as she went was of absolute devastation under a cracking mask. He settled into a bench at the table, head falling to the wood-grain. "Never marry a stubborn woman, Harry," he grumbled, picking a corner off of the bread loaf.

Harry snorted, settling down beside him. "I'm sure we won't ever have to worry about that. Even if Charlie does ever tire of me, I don't think I could settle down with any woman." He left an unspoken reasoning just hanging in the air. They both bristled a bit at it, but otherwise called no attention to it.

"That's really no excuse, Edward. I expect a sincere apology after you've thought about it awhile."

There was always something. Sighing heavily, Harry looked towards the staircase. Teddy came down first, head hung to hide his tear-stained cheeks. He was immediately on his feet, kneeling down before the boy and swiping the pad of his thumb over the wet tracks. "What happened?"

Rose, bleary-eyed and near-tears herself, was perched on Hermione's hip. She was regarding the boy with the pink hair like he could lash out at any moment. It didn't take much to figure out that there had been some sort of foul play upstairs. "He was in her room. Apparently she was crying and he was trying to help…. He had his hand over her mouth."

This was exactly the sort of thing that accentuated Harry being an inexperienced dad. But he supposed every parent felt like that. They all had to learn somehow. Nobody was born just knowing what to do. He sighed heavily, pulling the boy into his arms. The words weren't coming. He had no idea what to say. It was wrong. It was scary. It was…probably a sign of something. He pushed the magenta hair out of the boy's eyes, giving him a stern but sympathetic look. "I want you to sit down at the table. I'll get you some dinner and you can think about what you did. Before we leave, I expect you to apologize to both Rose and your aunt. Do you understand?"

Teddy didn't speak a word. He merely lowered his head even further and slunk back to the table.

Disturbingly, he didn't say anything for the rest of the night. Not even when Harry attempted to bribe him with an extra helping of dessert. Not even when Ron tried to cheer him up by charming the dishes to dance to the sink – something he was usually rather fond of. He only gave a hollow smile before going back to staring at his knotted hands in his lap.

Harry voiced a heartfelt apology on the boy's behalf before they left. It wasn't the same; Hermione's usual stern look said as much. But he couldn't risk his godson breaking down outside of their own home. He didn't want to bring down undue embarrassment. They could properly discuss this as adults at another time. And when he told Hermione this, he made sure to whisper, "And maybe we could also discuss the secret the two of you are keeping from me at the same time," as a gentle afterthought.

"Teddy, sit down. We're going to talk about this," Harry said sternly the instant they touched down in their own home again. The boy was already making to run away. He stopped abruptly, falling into a sitting position right in front of the fireplace. "I didn't mean right here…," he whispered, but sat across from him anyway. "So…are you going to tell me what happened? I don't want to punish you without knowing what you need punishing for."

In the entire time he had been raising this boy, he had never known him to be  _so_  quiet. And the longer the silence stretched out, the more concerned Harry became. A deep frown was growing with every passing, uncomfortable second. "Can you…at least tell me you know what you did was wrong?" He received a blink-and-you'll-miss-it nod. "But you won't tell me…what you did or why you did it?" Teddy gave an even smaller shake of his head. "Alright…. Alright. Go on to bed, then. You know where I'll be if you change your mind tonight or in the morning or…whenever. I'm here. I will always be here."

For the first time in the last couple hours, Teddy willingly met Harry's eyes. He looked like he had tears still welling in his own. And maybe it was just wishful thinking, but Harry was certain there was something he wanted to say. Something he was holding back for…whatever reason. "I also need you to go get me your new coloring pencils. I'm going to hold onto them until you've earned them back." The threat of moisture finally came through. Fat, horrible tears rolled down Teddy's cheeks as he grudgingly nodded before lumbering off to do as he was told.

Pencils in hand and Teddy crying himself to sleep in his bedroom, Harry stayed sat in front of the fire. He had reconciled to calling Charlie, after all. Not that he felt much like doing that with all of the less-than-great news he had to deliver. So he just… _sat_  there. The Floo powder was right there, just out of reach. His husband was just out of reach…. And yet, the only person he actually wanted to get all of this out to was the one person he shouldn't be calling upon…. Someone who was always more than just right out of his reach.

With a resigned sigh, he grabbed a sloppy handful of powder and threw it into the waning flames. It took a few long moments to work up the courage, but eventually he worked up the courage to thrust his face into the sparking green and called out Charlie's address in Romania. A head-spinning second later, he was looking into the familiar warmth of his husband's home. His real home.

"Fucking hell, Harry!" followed a loud crash. Harry winced, guiltily eyeing the shards of broken ceramic. "We've talked about this! Send a letter ahead of time!" Charlie fixed the mess with a simple wave of his wand, but took a bit longer to erase the shock on his face. "You scare the hell out of me every. Damn. Time."

A grin spread over Harry's lips, momentarily covering his ill-feelings. "Oh, but I enjoy watching you repair the same exact mug every. Damn. Time."

Charlie returned his smile easily. "The same one? Every time?" He looked down at said mug with a bit of amusement.

"The one Teddy and I painted for you a couple of years ago. It was a father's day gift. It's red with a rather technicolor blue dragon. The weird, bright yellow handle is always the first thing to go when it hits the floor."

They shared a weighted silence as Charlie walked closer to the fire. Harry took a moment to examine the little house he knew so well but had never actually been to. He supposed he only really knew this one part of it. The sitting room that bled right into the kitchen. It always seemed so cozy to him. He could definitely understand why his husband chose to spend most of his days here. And why he insisted his family never needed to visit him there. It was his own private heaven. He could fill it with anything he chose to. Books and discarded clothing were spread everywhere – a bachelor-like chaos. And the place always smelt of coffee and sweet walnuts.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?" Charlie asked softly once he had sufficiently curled up in his favorite armchair with the now-repaired mug warming his hands. The chair was old, ratty, and a ghastly shade of green that reminded Harry of vomit. But he swore by its comfort and insisted Harry would one day just have to sit in it to understand. For that, however, he would have to be allowed to visit. "Not that I don't love seeing your face floating in my fire on any given evening."

The momentary lapse in panic ended far-too-abruptly for Harry's taste. His smile faded in slow motion and he shifted uncomfortably upon the hard floor. "I have two different bits of bad news to give you. Which would you like first – the one that pertains to me or…the one that pertains to our son?"

Frowning, Charlie set aside his mug and leaned forward. "What's happened with Teddy?" he asked on a shuddery whisper.

Harry explained the full-detail of the night, skipping for now his own troubles. He started with a shaky recount of what they had for dinner and the Bakewell tart he knew his husband would have loved for dessert. A slow and gentle transition into the unsavory details. The debacle that he could only relay secondhand because he still didn't know what  _really_  happened. Sure, he could trust what Hermione thought she had walked in on. But he would be more inclined to believe what Teddy told him. If he were to ever tell him….

By the time Harry had finished explaining the punishment he had planned, Charlie was more than just leaning forward. He was all but falling out of his ugly chair and looked…equal parts sad as he did guilty. "I've just never known him to act violent. I don't understand…," Harry finished quietly.

"He…pushed a kid on the playground a couple years ago. And, um…a few weeks back when I was watching both him and Rose…." Charlie cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I didn't think much of it. I didn't even think it was worth mentioning. He just…he swatted her on her backside. Gave her a spanking. She cried, but…there was no mark because of the diaper. She was okay. And I talked to him about it. Or tried. He didn't seem keen on giving an explanation then, either."

It wasn't exactly a history. It wasn't like Teddy had done this time and time again. Three incidents didn't constitute a problem. Did it? Harry breathed heavily and long through his nose, a stream of smoke slipping into Charlie's sitting room. "You should have told me about these things. I have a right to know, even if you don't think it's important. He goes off to school soon and the  _last_  thing I want…is for him to be  _that_  kid." The bully. The outcast. The one to stay far away from.

They sat in a small silence once again, though this time it seemed far more awkward. Every fear they had about how they were raising the boy was being called into question. And if any of this ever went public…. "We'll keep an eye on it, Harry. It'll be okay. It could be just…a phase. Or maybe he isn't trying to cause any actual harm. We will figure it out. I promise. Nothing means more to me than that boy." Harry nodded, reaching through the fire to scrub a hand over his weary eyes. "What else?" Charlie asked. "What's happened with you today?"

Compared to what they had just discussed, this other matter now seemed completely trivial. It was almost enough to make Harry laugh. If it weren't completely inappropriate, he may have even dared a small smile. "I've been asked to take a case."

"And you declined it, right? We decided you wouldn't work any cases until he was at school."

It was Harry's turn to look guilty. He averted his eyes, staring at new stain on the carpet by the ugly chair. "I said I would help, Charlie," he said softly. "And I'm going to do it."

Although Harry's tone said there was no room for discussion, Charlie was quickly on his feet. Ready to plead his own case on the matter. "Darling, you promised. We both agreed that since I was gone so often…Teddy needed someone who could be there for him. And consistently. You only have a couple more months of this deskwork. Why can't this wait? Why can't someone else take it?" He settled up right before the fire, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Looking every bit intimidating, if only he didn't carry such a soft and pliant expression. "Why does it have to be  _you_?"

"Charlie…." There was absolutely no surprise in the direction the conversation was taking. Harry had anticipated the fight. It's why he hadn't asked for permission. Not that he should have to…. Despite being married and wanting to respect his husband's wishes, Charlie wasn't his keeper. Harry had his own free-will that he preferred to keep well maintained. "I can't speak about the case. I've signed a binding contract. I can, however, tell you that I did bear Teddy in mind when I made my decision. They do need help and I do seem to be the best candidate. I mean, they were desperate enough for Malfoy to come ask me himself…."

The bomb dropped quite effectively, causing Charlie's jaw to slack in a most unattractive way. It took him a long minute to be able to pick it back up and look at Harry with any semblance of sanity. "Excuse me?" he whispered, his feelings clearly written on every inch of his face.

If convincing Charlie that working this case was a good idea was going to be difficult, convincing him that Harry working with his ex wasn't a terrible idea was going to be damn near impossible. "Yes, I will be working rather close with him. I'm not about to hide that from you. Does that worry you? Or make you jealous…?"

He would be lying if he said he wasn't hoping it was the latter.

"I don't exactly know how I feel about that. I just know that it's not really a good feeling right now." And the hardness in Charlie's eyes definitely confirmed that. "But moving past your ex-boyfriend…who's going to be taking care of Teddy when you're working odd hours in America? Because I assume that's where you'll be if he's asking for your help."

"I haven't quite worked it all out, yet," Harry snapped, frustrated more in himself for not being prepared than in his husband for questioning him. "Andromeda's just left for Monte Carlo. It would be unfair to ask her to cancel her vacation. She deserves this…. And I don't suppose you'd be willing to come home for as long as this may take." Charlie merely rolled his eyes, stalking back to the ugly chair. "Right…. So, I suppose I'll just have to take him with me."

" _With you_?"

They had finally come to the absolute worst part of all of the bad news. The part Harry had been dreading, especially considering Charlie's reaction thus far. He gritted his teeth, hands fists at his sides on the other side of the fire. "Yes…. The best option for us will be to stay in America for a bit. And Malfoy has offered a spare room in his home. He, his roommate, and their boyfriend have a good system worked out for the care of their son. He offered for Teddy to be able to share in that system since I'm helping him out. And it's looking like my best option at this point considering what just happened tonight with Ron and Hermione."

"Do you even care what I have to say about any of this?" Charlie snapped, fishing a cigar from the pocket of his cardigan and shoving it between his teeth.

Likewise, Harry was itching for a cigarette, but was desperate to get through this on his own resolve. "Of course I do, Charlie. Of course…. But I've just…. I've kind of made up my mind. I need to help them with this. I can't handle the guilt of turning them down. And it would mean a lot to me if you could just trust me on that."

Charlie didn't meet Harry's eyes in the fire again. He kept them turned down to the carpet, to that same distracting stain, and spoke with as much control as he could manage. "Do whatever the fuck you want, Harry. Just…do me a favor and don't come crying to me when Malfoy fucks everything up for you again, somehow."

An ominous warning to keep their son safe was the last thing Harry heard before he'd finally had enough. He pulled out of the fire, feeling like the weight on his shoulders was now ten times heavier. It was the opposite of how he had hoped to feel after this conversation. He sighed and fell back against the carpet, giving up and pulling the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of the colored pencils and made a 'tch' noise behind his teeth.

This was only the beginning of a few hard weeks to come, he was sure.

But he couldn't deny the small swell in his heart. The excitement building for what was to come. The thrill of working a challenging case again. The anticipation of being so close to Draco again….

Even if when it all ended, he was sure to be shattered just like the technicolor dragon mug, only to be repaired over and over again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this is a rather short chapter.... Sorry, but I do like where it ended. Please enjoy and be sure to leave a review with what you're thinking!!

 

The entire situation felt insanely surreal.

Harry Potter was upstairs in Draco's own house, making himself very much at home. It was in the guest room, so that didn't really count in the way he had hoped…. But it was still something. He was still  _there_  and that was more than he had ever thought would happen.

"I still feel like a hotel would have been a better option."

And then there was Shea sitting right across from him at the table, his fingers alarmingly tight around his wine glass. It was before eight on a Wednesday morning and the bottle of Riesling was already half gone. Of course, that was Draco's fault. It was all his fault. The anger, the hurt looking back at him, the shouting match they'd had the first night his boyfriend had even been home in months. He was also responsible for the current bed made out on the living room sofa. The only responsibility Shea had in that was his instruction for it to stay up for the time being.

Distrust shouldn't be given the privilege of a lover's bed.

Draco nodded; he already knew how Shea felt. The man just kept repeating it over and over again like he couldn't believe this was happening. His reason for disbelief was far saner than Draco's was. "Teddy needs more stability than that. And since I am the one to have brought them to this situation, it really is only fair to offer a solution." He had said this what seemed like a thousand different ways in the span of only a few hours.

"For the record, I agree with Shea." There was an unmistakably Slytherin glint in Astoria's eyes when she leaned over to kiss Shea on the cheek. He had slept with her last night and still Draco had to occupy the couch. The couch that didn't even pull out and was far-too-short. He now had a likely irreparable kink in his back and still really had no one to blame but himself for it. Not if he was being rational about it. "You've done some stupid shit in your life, Dray, but this…. This is fucking crazy."

"Daddy f'cking craaaazyyyy," Scorpius cooed and threw a few pieces of cereal on the ground.

While Draco bit back a grin, Astoria smacked the tray of the highchair. "Scorpius, that's enough. We don't say that word." The boy stared up at her with a furrowed brow, seemingly judging her. Why couldn't he say it if she just had? "But you're right, baby. Daddy  _is_  crazy."

Rolling his eyes, Draco stood abruptly from the table. "I have to get to work.  _We_ …have to get to work. Astoria has the early shift today, so that leaves you on Papa duty." Testing his boundaries, he leaned in to give Shea a kiss. One that was instantly shot down with a quick turn of the head. He sighed and graced his lips over the tawny skin of his cheek, mirroring Astoria's peck a moment earlier. "I will make it up to you later. I promise," he whispered. "Dinner from that Korean place you love. A foot massage for however long you need it. And I want you to tell me all about your tour."

"Just go get your ex and leave," Shea muttered, ducking further towards his breakfast. And taking another large swallow of his wine.

Without another choice to fall back on, Draco bobbed his head resignedly and slunk up the stairs. It was entirely too early for all of this. Then again, two in the morning was also incredibly too early for his ex-boyfriend to show up on his doorstep claiming to have forgotten about the time difference.

Harry was just coming out of his temporary room when Draco rounded the stairs. Their eyes met in that moment, but only for that brief second. They both pointedly looked away, an awkwardness keeping them a good distance apart. "We should get going," Draco said gently. "If you're ready, that is."

He certainly looked ready. Harry had adopted the MACUSA dress code, opting for a simple suit instead of the garishness of dress robes. He looked down at himself, straightening the burgundy tie that made his green eyes pop with temptation. "I think I am."

They descended the stairs a good distance from one another. Clearly not trusting the unspoken words between them just yet. Although it was the last place he wanted to be, Draco led them through the kitchen to the backdoor. The yard was the safest place to apparate without walking a far distance.

As they passed the dining table, there was no mistaking the tension. There was also no mistaking the way Harry's eyes flitted to the wine glass when he stopped beside Shea's chair. Draco made sure to stay on the far opposite side, saying his sweet goodbyes to his son.

"I just wanted to thank you for watching Teddy," Harry said gingerly, bowing down just a bit to try and get Shea to meet his eyes. Of course, to no avail. "He's still sleeping, but once he wakes he's under instruction to help with whatever chores you might have for him. It's a punishment he's earned and I know it's unfair to ask you to help me with this…but I certainly would appreciate it anyway."

Shea's answer was only a stiff nod as he emptied the rest of the wine bottle. He didn't speak or even come close to looking at Harry. His feelings were clear on the man's presence without having to say anything at all.

In that most awkward silence, Harry and Draco shuffled out the backdoor. The screeching goodbye from Scorpius was the only well-wishing that followed them out, everyone else just seemed glad to see them go.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring the dogs," Draco said, the first to break that strangled tension between them. He wore a simple, half-smile that just didn't quite have life to it.

Harry merely shrugged. "I sent them to be with Charlie. They're more his, anyway."

"I thought they were supposed to be gifts for you."

"They were. Hollow gifts to fill the space he'd rather not occupy." Harry cleared his throat, very aware that this wasn't the truth. He was just feeling bitter. When he'd called Charlie earlier that day to make plans, he was greeted with a coldness he'd never felt from his husband. The undoubtable hurt he had caused him was transferring back to him. In trying to do the right thing, he felt like he was drifting away from his own life. The life he had chosen. The one he  _thought_  he was happy in. Perhaps it had all just been a shelter from the inevitable.

Perhaps he was doomed to lose this, too.

"Anyway…. Can I side-along with you?" Harry quickly changed the subject, toeing at a clump of weeds in the grass. "Just for the first time? I've never been to MACUSA Headquarters and I'd rather not waste time getting lost."

Draco, feeling weirdly wrong in his own skin, nodded and hooked his arm through Harry's. Touching him always felt so intimate. Like their skin was on fire and the only solution to put that fire out was to strip down and hold one another. But the sensation today was different. The clothing between their skin didn't feel thick enough. The fire was ice and all he wished was to let go. He made short work of the apparation, landing them square in the entrance hall.

The Ministry of Magic had its particular extravagance, but it was nothing compared to this. To start, the magic that went into hiding the whole place had it appearing to exist in an alternate dimension of the outside building. That, in itself, went to an almost untouchable place. And then there was the gold gild on everything. Like they were trying to make a certain inescapable point about the freedom of excess.

Harry was almost embarrassed to stand there on the entrance steps, mouth agape in wonder, but found he couldn't help it. To his sides, busy witches and wizards bumped his shoulders like he was an inconvenience. Something that would never happen at the Ministry. Everyone knew him. Everyone was  _very aware_ of him at every goddamn second. But here, he only one who stopped to stare at him was Draco. And it wasn't really in wonder or amazement. He actually looked rather annoyed.

"Come along, Potter. I have better things to do with my time than sit around and watch you gawk like an idiot."

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry snapped, tearing off ahead of Draco with a vengeance.

Slight bemusement gracing his features, Draco caught back up with him. It was far too easy for them to fall into old habits. So easy that Draco found it took every ounce of strength he had not to reach out and link their fingers. "Our office is on the twelfth floor," he explained. It was better to stick with the old habits that didn't leave him broken a second later. "If you want a tour, some secretary can give you one later. I don't have the time nor the desire to walk you around entire building. And Merlin knows many of them really could use something productive to do with their time."

Most likely due to his harsh tone, they rode the lift up to their department in complete and awkward silence. If there had been any shred of barely bridled anger between them, it would have felt just like they were back in school again. The air between them was thick with tension and full of more unspoken words than could be healthy. Magic was almost visibly sparking between them, their instincts reaching for what they were both so afraid of.

"Morning, Mr. Malfoy!"

As he did any morning, Draco cringed away from the shrill voice that insisted on the same damn greeting every single day. And always with the same, grating enthusiasm. "Ms. Shelton," he said through gritted teeth, stepping off the lift and into the office he'd come to think of as home. Of sorts.

It was the home of his path to redemption.

The woman, sharp and birdlike in her wiry features, flitted up from her desk and followed them in their hasty path across the office. Harry took a moment to gauge his new surroundings. This woman, Ms. Shelton, had her desk right off the lift doors. The placard upon that desk stated that she was the one to check in with before each shift. Presumably for assignments as the surface of that desk was absolutely overtaken by piles and piles of folders and memos as well as a smattering of different candy dishes.

Just to the other side of the lift doors was a moderate-sized sitting area. A waiting room, perhaps. A young mother in tears sat on the edge of a long, rich red cushion. Her boy, no more than five, was eagerly helping himself to a plate of doughnuts on the coffee table. Harry tore his gaze away, and hastened his step in order to catch up with Draco and the woman he seemed so desperate to escape.

A frosted glass wall separated this area off from the rest of the office. They crossed through a section of the wall, charmed in much the same way as the entrance to the Platform 9 ¾, into a familiar bustle of the early morning. Though this office, too, was decked out in gold and luxury, it reminded Harry quite a bit of his own. Heavy walnut desks as far as his eye could see with hard-working Aurors all dripping with the eagerness for justice.

They bypassed all of this in favor of one of the doors lining the outer walls of the department. The entire trek, the woman prattled on about some viewing party Draco had missed. She didn't so much as give Harry a backwards glance until they reached the desired door. "Oh, uh…visitors have to check in, sir," she said hastily, cheeks darkening at realizing her mistake.

"He's not a visitor," Draco growled. "He's with me."

Biting her lip, Ms. Shelton shrugged and curled her fingers around Harry's upper arm. "He still has to check in, Mr. Malfoy. It's for everyone's safety." She tugged, forcefully suggesting that Harry follow her back to her desk.

"You see, Martha, I don't believe Harry Potter has any intention of causing a security threat."

The woman jumped, turning to face Deacon Bates with eyes wide as saucers. He winked at Harry, gently pulling her away from him. "Harry Potter?" she echoed on a disbelieving breath. "Huh." She gave him a thoughtful once over before nodding emphatically and running away.

"Thanks for that. Now the whole department will be gossiping," Draco spat, waving his wand in a methodical pattern at the room's door handle.

Deacon grinned like he was rather proud of himself. "I'm hoping for gossip throughout the entirety of MACUSA Headquarters, Draco. Don't limit Mr. Potter's notoriety to only our department."

Just like that the majesty of America was gone. Harry sighed softly through his nose and followed Draco through the doorway. Inside was a slightly smaller version of the outside offices. An empty desk overcrowded with files greeted them and right next to that was a small sitting area decorated in a contrary set of blue armchairs and not a single complimentary pastry in sight. The far wall was lined with three doors, two labeled with each of these men's names and the third labeled as  _Interrogation_.

"Is Nathan late again?"

"No, I fired him yesterday."

Deacon breathed heavily through his nose, making for the door labeled as his own. "Please stop firing our assistants, Draco. You see, I do tire of doing interviews."

"Stop hiring assistants who are incompetent and I won't have to fire them."

Stopping just short of disappearing into his private office, Deacon leveled a serious look at Draco. "Get him up to speed. I want fresh answers by this afternoon." The door snapped resolutely shut behind him, accentuating his point.

Draco scrubbed his hand over his face, already feeling weary down to his bones. "We'll have to share my office. If you don't feel comfortable with that, you can have Nathan's desk until we find his replacement."

Harry followed him to said office, glancing backwards a moment. "What did he do to be deemed incompetent?"

"He didn't know the difference between a latte and a cappuccino," Draco said coolly, gracefully falling into the chair behind his desk. His office was minimally decorated with both a Slytherin and a Falmouth Falcons pennant behind him and a few family photos scattered between his desk and the filing cabinet in the corner.

"Guess you'll have to sack me, as well," Harry joked, coming across far tenser than he had desired. There was no ease to his presence here. There was no ease in showing up on this man's doorstep at an unthinkable hour. There was no ease to leaving Teddy in a stranger's house while he was off investigating deaths of boys his age. There was no ease to standing across a room from Draco Malfoy, only able to daydream about the things he wanted to do to him.

"You have a few redeeming qualities. I think you're safe." Draco's words also came out quite hollow. Everything he wanted to say and do to Harry was tightly balled into an overused recess of his mind. He was desperate to appear professional. To appear to be able to stick to the rules. "Have a seat. Every file on the murders is here." He slid a hefty stack of folders across the desk. " _Please_  find something that justifies me having to sleep on the couch for the foreseeable future."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up having a surprise day off of work so...here's another chapter. So soon! As always, I appreciate any time taken to leave a review. I do love to know what you are thinking! Enjoy!

 

Deacon Bates had said the words "you see" thirty-seven times in the span of an hour. For this alone, Harry was certain he hated the man.

"I need a fucking break." He stood hastily from his chair, unable to take it any longer. Since just after lunch, they had been talking circles around these files. And every single time Harry tried to voice a new approach, he was cut off before he could finish. For someone so desperate for help on this case, Deacon was incredibly limited. "Excuse me," he mumbled, stalking out of Deacon's office with no real destination in mind.

Vaguely, he remembered Draco's office having a window. And he was literally itching for a cigarette, the need for nicotine causing him to worry the skin from his bottom lip. He slipped into the small room, rushing to crack the window with a lit cigarette already dangling from his mouth.

"It's getting to you, isn't it? The case?"

"Shouldn't it be?" Harry countered, blowing a heavy breath of smoke out into the smog-riddled New York air.

Draco, who had followed closely behind, sat on the corner of his desk and watched Harry with measured calculation. It was strange having to think so hard about the right way to  _look_  at someone. "Yes…but I think you're taking it to an even more personal level than should be normal."

They both knew exactly why he was doing that. Teddy was just barely older than all of these boys who had died so young. Harry couldn't stop imagining his boy in the same situation. He couldn't stop imagining he was the one in the pictures, lifeless and cold. Never able to be more than a child. Never able to live his life. And for what?

That was the biggest frustration of all.

Why was this even happening?

Harry pulled a deep drag into his lungs, holding it until he felt them burn for relief. "None of this is normal, Draco. I don't think I've worked a case quite as gruesome as this. Charlie was probably right." He slowly turned to give Draco a hollow smile. "I probably should have turned you down."

With a swift wave of his wand, the door to the office swung closed with a soft snap. Harry saw what was about to happen before Draco had even crossed the space between them. He shrunk closer to the wall, trying to give the appearance of sealing himself off. They had these rules for a reason. If they started to break them now…. "We should…. We should get back, Draco," he said quietly. Denying his lover the idea before he could start to act on it.

Stopping so suddenly he nearly lost his composure, Draco nodded slowly. His lips tingled with the phantoms of a kiss he shouldn't steal as he turned away. "Yes…we should." He steeled himself on a shaky breath and tore the door back open with far-too-much force.

"I would like to interview the parents of one of the victims," Harry said quietly when he reentered Deacon's office, a full minute behind Draco. It had taken an additional cigarette to fully gather himself back together. "I have a few questions that weren't in your transcripts."

Deacon sat back in his chair, fingers steepled before him. Considering Harry's demand. More than likely considering shooting him down, if the rest of their afternoon was any indication. "You see, Mr. Potter-"

Encouraged by the nicotine coursing through his veins, Harry made a violent show out of slamming both of his fists down on Deacon's desk. "No,  _you_  see, Mr. Bates! You asked me to come on to this team. And if you want me here, you're going to have to trust me. You're going to have to let me do. My. Job." He straightened back up, combing fingers through his hair in a feat to regain composure. "Relinquish a bit of your control, Mr. Bates, and you may get some results finally. Maybe even before this killer takes another innocent life."

The only indication that Deacon was the least bit startled was that his eyes were round as saucers. Otherwise, he remained absolutely cool, calm, and collected. "Fine," he hissed, rifling through his own set of the case files. "There was one father, a single parent you see, I couldn't get enough information out of on my first interrogation. Ask him your questions. See if it can get you anywhere new." He threw the file across the desk, the papers spilling and floating to the floor in a slow cascade. "Draco, go with him. Keep him out of trouble."

Echoes of the past played in Harry's memories as he gathered the papers back up and muttered his thanks to the man. He had spent much of his school years attempting to keep Draco out of trouble. And here they were, many years later, in a near complete reversal of roles.

"Your boss is a dick," Harry snapped the instant they landed in an alley beside the listed address.

"He's just frustrated."

Harry rolled the tension off his shoulders, stalking around the corner of the small house. 'House' was a bit of a luxury term to describe what this was. The front lawn was so badly overgrown that he couldn't even see the walkway. The roof was missing most of its shingles and the paneling could have used a fresh coat of paint about twenty years ago. At least. The whole place looked ready to fall down with a gust of wind. And considering they were sitting right in Iowa's tornado alley, that fate didn't seem too far off. Frowning, Harry checked the file to make sure they had the right place. He found it hard to believe anyone could live here.

"It's the right house," Draco said softly, taking off his suit jacket and tie, stashing them inside of the mailbox. Relaxing even further, he untucked the faded green shirt he wore, undoing the top two buttons, and took his shoulder-length hair from its tie. "The first time we were here, he wouldn't let us in for about an hour because we looked like Mormons. You'll need to dress down, as well." He waited until Harry had done the same before heading up the cement path overtaken with weeds.

"Get your pasty white ass off my goddamn lawn!"

Before they'd even made it to the door, a man was out on the porch, shouting at them. They could just barely see his torso above the tall grass, but there was no mistaking the anger in his features. Harry looked around the neighborhood cautiously, thankful he was still armed with his wand. The fact that not a single person out in their own lawn was looking their way spoke to how often this man must yell at strangers.

"It's okay, Rudy. It's just me," Draco tried calmly, hands up in defense.

"I know who it is,  _boy_ ," the man spat. Harry was close enough now to see the man, barely holding himself up with a cane. His body shook from the effort, but he still found the lung capacity to continue his yelling. "And I know I don't want you here!"

Approaching cautiously, Draco settled a hand on the man's arm and gently guided him back towards the door. "I know you don't like to talk about it, Rudy. I'm sorry about this, but we have a few more questions about Andre."

The man grumbled something Harry couldn't hear – something most likely derogatory – and followed Draco's guidance. Harry followed close behind, barely containing the urge to cover his nose at the smell inside the house.

It was becoming clear as to why Deacon had sent him here out of thirteen other possibilities. This was payback for shouting at the man. Every step he took upon the hardwood floor felt uncertain. He felt like he could break right through at any moment. Piles of garbage cluttered every inch of the outer corners of this one room. Somewhere far off in the house he heard the mewl of a cat and suddenly felt even more afraid for where he might be stepping.

A child had lived here. A child had  _died_  here.

The heaviness in Harry's heart was only increasing the longer he was attempting to investigate these deaths.

Draco helped to settle the man onto a couch with innumerable questionable stains. When he was finished, he made no move to sit down himself. Harry thought it wise to follow suit.

"Why are you still investigating Andre's death?" Rudy growled out, breathing heavily with obvious exhaustion. His spent energy left him looking lethargic, his eyes having difficulty staying open. No wonder Deacon couldn't get much out of him.

"We still haven't found his killer," Draco said softly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "We won't stop until we have. Shouldn't you want that?"

Rudy chuckled low, a dangerous note. The note of a man who had obviously given up. "Racists killed my boy. Those racist bastard children at his school…." He drifted off, his eyes falling closed for a long moment. "They killed my boy. They killed my wife. They're killing me."

"He's convinced it's a suicide," Draco muttered just loud enough for Harry to hear. "Just like the mother." He cleared his throat, vying for more of the man's attention. "Rudy, this is my friend Harry. He's also with the police. He wants very much to find Andre's killer. I need you to answer his questions."

With a grunt, Rudy sat up a little further. Fighting his exhaustion. Harry took that as a sign to start while he could. "I know you told Draco and Deacon that you didn't think there was anything off about Andre in the days leading up to his death. But I'd like to know…how about before that? Did you see  _any_  change in him at all?"

With an impatient sigh, Rudy trained his dark gaze on Harry. Attempting to burn a hole right through him. "No."

"Did anything out of the ordinary happen  _to_  him?"

" _No_."

"How about…around him?"

"Harry, what are you-"

"Shush, let him answer."

"A bus crashed a week before he died. Everyone blamed him. Teased him. They called him Voodoo Boy. And then he killed himself. To end it. Is that what you wanted to here?"

Frowning, Draco took a step closer to the man. "What caused the bus crash?"

Rudy sighed, phantom memories clouding his vision with tears. "A young girl stepped out in front of it. She was the only one not to survive the crash."

"And why did the children think Andre was to blame?"

Swallowing hard, Rudy shook his head slowly back and forth. Like the reason was too much to speak aloud. After a strangled moment, he managed to whisper, "She was the worst in his class. Always…calling him that  _filthy_  word. Following him home after school and throwing rocks at him. Some people shouldn't breed, boys. That girl's parents shouldn't have bred. They created a monster. And I wouldn't blame my son one bit if he  _had_  told her to walk out in front of that bus. The other children said they saw him whispering to her a moment before. They said he looked evil….

"My son was not evil. He didn't deserve the life he had."

Harry was certain a part of his heart broke on Rudy's forlorn sigh. He swallowed back the start of his own tears and stepped closer to the man, kneeling down on the uncertain floor before him. "I'm going to find who did this to him, Rudy. Your son loved you too much to take his own life and I'm going to prove that to you." He reached out to gently squeeze Rudy's knee and gave him the most sincere smile he could muster.

A heavy silence hung over them when they left. Harry had no words to explain how he was feeling. He had no way of pin-pointing his emotions in order to put them into something tangible. This case was breaking him down bit by bit. Things he hadn't felt since he was a mere child himself were starting to flood back. The weight of overwhelming responsibility and the itch of dread digging itself into his bones.

And along with all of this, there was an oily sick feeling sinking into the pit of his belly. "I have a theory…. I would need to conduct a few more interviews to confirm it. But I think it would be best to start again tomorrow."

Draco sat behind his desk, a crack in his calm foundation. He had neglected to tie his hair back again, allowing the locks to fall in a curtain around his face. "What's your theory?"

Harry clenched his fists and resisted the urge to push up out of his own chair in barely bridled frustration. It was ridiculous that he was the only one who could have seen this. How was it that neither Draco nor Deacon could have come to this easy conclusion? "They're Muggleborns! The children who died…they're all Muggleborn wizards. How could you not see it?"

"Coercion isn't a normal manifestation of child's magic," Draco said slowly. Seemingly trying to bring Harry to reason. "It isn't reckless enough. It's too calculated. Too complicated. I know you want it to be that simple, but I just don't believe it is."

There was the hint of a tell in Draco's eyes. He was holding Harry's gaze, but not quite meeting it. There was an unmistakable shadow over his vision. Like he was trying too hard to keep in a secret. It was a look Harry knew well. It was the face he had memorized right before the man had left him for good. And the same one he wore every single time he had left since. "You just don't want to see it," Harry said softly, carrying the notes of a revelation. "This is why you brought me in. Your past won't allow you to see this. It's too close to  _him_. To Voldemort."

Pretending he hadn't heard Harry, Draco pushed up from his chair. He began gathering his things into his briefcase, making a quiet comment about the end of the day. About trying again in the morning. "We shouldn't tell Deacon until we're for certain," he hastened to add, his voice sounding panicked. The tremor of fear Harry was sure he saw in his slate eyes manifesting in the shake of his words.

Harry nodded slowly, once again feeling dangerously close to breaking the rules. Feeling dangerously close to acting on the need to comfort. The need to cross the distance between them and kiss away Draco's frown. The need to make Draco forget his scars for just a moment. The need to make him feel worthy and  _good_.

"We really should get home," Draco said quickly before another word could be spoken. "And the case stays here. We don't discuss it outside of the realm of our investigation."

Nodding once again, Harry pulled himself up, as well. "Home it is."

It took everything in him to leave it at that. To not fight the issue any further. To accompany this man, silent and complicit, back to the home he had made with another. Coupling that with the rest of the day's events, Harry was near to stumbling by the time they were walking through the back door. Shattered.

And the only thing that perked him back up was seeing Teddy sitting at the table waiting for him. He grinned, falling into a chair beside the boy with a wearied noise.

Except…Teddy wasn't waiting for him.

Teddy was waiting for Draco.

"Uncle Draco!" he exclaimed, completely ignoring his godfather in favor of jumping up to greet the other man. His excitement unchecked in the way he hugged him. Like he was afraid he could disappear at any moment.

He always embraced Draco like that and Harry felt dirty for feeling jealous of it.

"Hey, kiddo," Draco said gently, holding the boy back just as fiercely. When the boy was around, he felt a completeness only he could give. Sure, he had his own son now. A product of his flesh and blood. But there would always be a soft spot inside of him for this child. Flesh and blood of a different respect. "Is Shea around?"

Teddy nodded, pointing towards the ceiling. "He and Miss Astoria are changing Scorpius upstairs." He raked fingers through his hair, grinning back at Harry for a split second before turning back to Draco. "How was work?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry pulled himself up out of the chair. Intent on ripping himself out of this situation in the manner akin to tearing off a bandage. Avoiding prolonged pain. "You never ask how my work days are."

Frowning, Teddy pulled back from Draco. Just a step. "I just want to know how long we'll be here before we have to leave…. If you – the both of you – had a bad day at work…I get to stay longer. That's all…."

Harry sighed heavily and nodded, feeling very much the jerk. It had been a bit of a bad day. It wasn't fair to take that out on the boy. "I understand," he whispered, stopping in his retreat to kiss the top of the boy's hair. Savoring the scent of him and of home and of a place far safer than this. A place where he knew the way things worked. "I'm going to go get some rest, Teddy. If you need anything from me-"

"I'll be okay!" Teddy interrupted, a little too fast for Harry's taste. His eagerness turned Harry's stomach and he could practically feel the rejection. It lodged into his gut, much like a knife. Twisting and slicing at the ugly bits of him. The jealousy from not being enough and the confusion from the events of the other night.

An all new resolve settled within him, desperate to finish this case as fast as he could. The sooner it was over, the sooner they could get back to normal. The sooner they could be home in a state of blissful ignorance from how things  _could_  have been.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this was intended to be a fluffy, family scene. It did not go as planned.... Yesterday was my birthday and I hate my birthday so...the characters definitely fed off of my depression. Sorry, not sorry. Leave a comment and let me know what you think about the way it turned out!

 

" _I'm starting to think this is going to be a recurring nightmare with you."_

" _Am I in your nightmares, Potter?" Draco didn't stand from the bed. He was frozen. Couldn't move. Fear had paralyzed him. "Am I the thing that keeps you awake? Am I what brings you to a cold sweat in the middle of the night? Am I the worst thing you could imagine in your deepest sleep?"_

" _No…I don't think so."_

_Harry's tone was surprisingly kind. Teasing, even. Like the way they had left things two years ago was completely washed away._

" _I hear congratulations are in order. I have to admit…I was a bit surprised, though. You told me you weren't interested in women. Let alone in the Greengrass girl."_

_Despite the wounds inside of himself rebreaking, Draco found a smile edging at his lips. "It isn't likely to happen again. But I'm not complaining about the outcome."_

_The pressure of Harry taking a spot next to Draco on the bed brought them closer than probably desired. They bowed into one another, hands bracing for stability far too close to the other. Fingers just slightly out of reach. "What's the child's name? The Prophet didn't list one and Teddy has been speculating since Andromeda found the article."_

_Draco was hoping it could be a secret for just a bit longer. He was hoping to keep his son from the trash tabloids most wizarding publications had become. The innocent deserved a far better life than gossip from birth. "Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy," he said fondly._

_When Harry laughed, it was deep-bellied and full of life. Almost like he hadn't laughed this hard in so long. Not genuinely, anyway. Or maybe that was just Draco's wishful thinking. Either way, he couldn't stop staring. The first time he had really looked at the man since his arrival. A big mistake, really, because now he didn't want to look away. "I swear that is the most Pureblood name I have ever heard. Why would you do that to the poor kid?"_

" _Astoria wanted to call him Rayn," Draco chuckled. "Rayn Beau Greengrass. Rayn with a fucking 'y' and Beau in the French spelling. Trust me…his given name is a definite upgrade." Wet heat pricked at the corners of his eyes, senseless tears threatening to break. Being here with this man felt too good. His heart felt too good. And he knew when this ended later, either minutes or hours from now, he was going to feel the absence of it all._

 _The world was going to feel_ wrong _again._

_Maybe not wrong._

_Maybe just off-color._

_And the deeper than feeling sunk into his being, the harder it became to hold back the tears. "Fuck," he whispered, quickly turning away from the other. "Sorry…I didn't ask you to come to just…to_ cry _at you."_

" _Your letter said you wanted to talk. I had actually assumed that was a safe way of saying you wanted to fuck, in case it was intercepted." Draco forced himself to look away, feeling guilty for even wanting that just a little bit. "But…I'm good with talking. And if that means you cry a little bit…." Harry shrugged. "It's not the first time I've seen you cry."_

" _No, the first time you saw me cry…I nearly died. Literally."_

_It really wasn't comical in the slightest, but Draco couldn't help the watery chuckle that climbed up his throat. The scars inflicted that day still smarted when the weather turned cold. They were always there – a bitter reminder of that year. The year he would change if he had any choice to. A year he would wipe from his history at the drop of a hat._

_The year he was desperately trying to make up for every single day of his damn life._

_The year where all of his insecurities festered and grew into something that would inevitably push him away from everything he loved. It was only because of what he had done then that he felt so far removed from Harry. It was only because of the events he set in motion and the deaths he sealed that he felt the need to run away._

" _But I didn't kill you. Pretty sure that's the most important part. That and…I think I've made up for it enough by worshipping those scars time and time again. I could do it one more time if that would make you feel any better about the situation."_

_Harry's fingertips were playing at Draco's palm, now. The barrier between them was shattered and it felt like ice down his spine. It felt like dangerous and familiar. It felt like something he longed for far more often than he should._

_It felt tempting. Those were among the chosen memories that Draco savored on lonely nights. They were his guilty pleasure when Shea made love to him in the dark. There were sensations buried within those scars that only this man could bring meaning to. And he was sure he would give anything to feel them again._

_But he had set boundaries with himself when he sent that letter. If he was going to walk away from this hotel room even partially intact, he was going to have to stick to them._

" _I want to be able to see Teddy," he said hastily, changing to subject before something deep within him took over his ability to speak. Before he did something rash. "That's…really why I asked you here. Now that I have Scorpius…. It's ridiculous, but I can feel every moment I'm losing in Teddy's life and it's getting to where I can't stand it. You may not have seen me as any sort of parent to him, but I do feel that bond. I miss him, Harry. I don't like the way that makes me feel." He pulled his hand away, holding it close to his heart. Feeling the phantoms of pressure melting away with every single beat in his chest._

~*~

"Your hair is pink."

Ducking his head with a soft blush, Teddy nodded and took the stack of plates Draco held out for him. "Yeah…it's kinda stuck," he muttered, busying himself with setting the table. Unable to meet the man's eyes. Unable to show him how vulnerable that made him feel.

"What do you mean it's stuck?" Shea looked up from this laptop, tilting his head at the boy. "I have bleach upstairs. We can fix it, if you wanted. For the record, though, I like it. It's bold."

Every time Draco had to explain some new magic  _thing_  to Shea, he got the same sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. A sick feeling that crept a tinge of bile up his throat. He hated having to explain every little thing to the man. He hated bringing his world into his Muggle escape.

"I can shift my appearance," Teddy said eagerly, saving Draco the trouble with a sly grin. He wasn't allowed to tell many people he met. Letting it out felt good. "Well…sort of. I can shift my hair. I haven't been able to do anything else. It's called metamorphamagy. My mother, she could do it, too. Dad says she was able to shift her face, as well." Lost in a thought, he set the last plate down on the table and fingered a strand of his hair. "She liked to wear her hair pink…."

"I just thought your godfather let you dye your hair," Shea whispered, slightly shocked. These revelations always shocked him. And Draco wished every single time that he would just be used to it all by now.

"Nope!" Teddy grinned, heading back into the kitchen to grab the silverware.

Draco, stirring a pot on the stove, leaned back and allowed himself the luxury of taking the full view of Teddy in. He had only caught small glimpses into the boy's life as he grew. Alarmingly brief glimpses. Only just long enough each time to disbelieve how much he had changed. It was something he had most definitely brought upon himself. He didn't deserve a relationship with this boy after the way he had left. He most certainly didn't deserve the easy forgiveness or unrestrained idolization.

Even so, he couldn't help but to feel like he was missing out.

Teddy finished counting out silverware from the drawer and looked up to catch Draco staring. His cheeks darkened even further and he shifted uncomfortably. "Please don't," he whispered.

With a concerned frown, Draco turned his gaze back to the pot. "Sorry," he apologized before clearing the sentimental emotion clogging his voice. "I didn't mean to stare." It was a lie, but held a better tone than the truth. "I just…." He looked up again to find that he was alone. Teddy was already back out in the dining room, head seemingly in a permanent bow. Draco's frown deepened and he now found it difficult to stop watching. Something was wrong with the boy.

"Daddy, bite?"

Scorpius had been occupying himself on the floor with a pan and a wooden spoon that he now held out towards Draco. He was pretending to cook in the short moments he wasn't banging them together for the sake of raucousness. Grinning, Draco leaned down and pretended to take a large bite off the spoon. "Oh, so good! What is that?"

Giggling so hard he nearly fell over, Scorpius exclaimed, "Fin'ers 'n' toes!"

"Fingers and toes?" Draco exclaimed back, scooping the boy up eagerly into his arms. He was never able to resist the charm of the boy. If he could hold him every second of every day, there was no way he would ever complain. "That's quite ridiculous, isn't it?"

Balancing the boy on his hip, Draco used his free hand to levitate the pan past the island counter separating the kitchen from the dining room. "Teddy, can you-" he began, stopping short when he realized his absence. "Where'd he go?"

Shea shrugged, rather pointedly keeping his gaze trained upon the laptop screen. "Said he was tired or something. He went upstairs." The tension from the morning was definitely still in full effect in every syllable of the words he spoke to Draco. And most likely would still be until the intruders to their home were gone.

"Could you close the computer and help me, then?" Draco said through almost gritted teeth. "Scor needs in his chair and I have to grab the rest of the food."

"You seem to be handling it just fine with your magic."

If Draco wasn't currently holding two of the most fragile things in his life, his fists were sure to have been balled up tight. Sure, he was more than capable of a little more magic to aid the process, but he was feeling desperate for Shea to… _notice_  him. Or something. To drop this act of anger and be the man he stuck around for again. With a simple wrist flick, he beckoned for the rest of the dishes to settle into their rightful places at the table. With this out of the way, he settled Scorpius into his high chair before sitting beside him. "Where's Astoria tonight?"

"On a date. And I thought we were having Korean barbecue…."

"I didn't have time to pick it up. I'm sorry." Draco tried to let it roll off. Tried to tell himself he did deserve this in some capacity. He deserved the harshness and for Shea not to meet his eyes. Attempting to swallow his anger, he scooped all three of them plates of pasta and salad.

"Has he been fucking you?"

The tension, a dangerous line keeping them at a distance, snapped like a rubber band.

Every bit of color Draco had in his skin flushed away as he felt his heart stop for a moment.

Shea's words were strangled, like he had been trying his best to hold them back. Like he was trying so hard not to voice them aloud. Like he didn't want to know the answer, and Draco couldn't blame him. He couldn't blame him for snapping and letting them loose, either.

"Or have you been fucking him? I never did get the logistics of your relationship."

The way his breathing quickened and his hands shook, there was no way for Draco to deny it. He didn't even have the chance to try and lie.

"How long?"

"Since…. Shortly after Scorpius was born."

" _Why_?"

Draco had never had to put these actions into words like this. He'd never had to justify why he was doing it. It just  _was_.

He was Harry Potter and he was tempting. Draco didn't know how to resist him. He was powerless against the temptation. It was so stupid and he hated himself for how he felt. He hated himself for making Shea feel this way.

He just hated himself.

And perhaps that's what it all boiled down to in the end.

"You love him."

It was a statement and required no affirmation. That didn't stop Draco, however, from feeling the need to hopelessly nod his head. Up and down. Slow and mechanical. Harsh and  _loud_.

"Seven years, Draco…. Seven years and you've never said you love me."

That didn't sound right. But at the same time….

"I never said it, either. I knew. I always knew that I was temporary. I was…your escape. And if I said it and you couldn't say it back…. Fuck, Draco.  _Fuck_." Shea looked on the outside every bit how Draco felt inside. His walls were crumbling and the tears were rolling in full force. In the light from his luminated screen, he looked ghostly and unreal. Like a dream. A bad dream.

There was a terrible fear clawing at them both. A terrible fear that this may be the end. This may be what killed them.

Seven years - gone.

"I've built a lot of my life around you and Astoria," Shea whispered, his voice cracking and betraying the sobs he was trying to hold back. "And I've never  _lied_  to you, Draco. And I've never asked for  _anything_  but that you don't lie to me, either. Especially not about this. Why didn't you just  _tell_  me? I could have understood that. I know that I will never come first for you, but if you had just told where I  _actually_  fall in your life…."

Next to Draco, Scorpius tried to swallow too large of a bite and coughed it back up. Forcing himself to look away from the train wreck of his life, he turned and made sure the boy was okay. "I do love you, Shea," he whispered, still not certain that it was true. Not sure if inside of his heart, so small and nurture-starved for most of his childhood, there was room for loving them both. "I don't see how I couldn't."

"I do." Shea smiled sadly. "I fall in love far too easily. I was nine when I had my first girlfriend and I proposed to her after a week. Brought her my mother's fake diamond ring and everything. Which I thought was one-hundred-percent real, of course. So, uh…yeah, it's way too easy for me. But you…. You're cold, Draco.

"I firmly adhere to the idea that we are capable of loving more than one person. I've been lucky enough to never be proven wrong on that. Until you. I don't think you could ever love me because you're devoting too much of yourself to him. I saw it the instant he walked into this house. And every moment you've looked at him since then. And I wish I could hate you for that. I really do."

For a long few minutes, the only sound came from Scorpius munching happily on his dinner. He was none the wiser to his family falling apart. What Draco wouldn't give to be the boy in that instant. Young and innocent and surrounded by nothing but pure warmth. Oblivious to any chaos.

They ate in that violent silence, all thoughts strangled before they could become words. Everything left unspoken. Too much damage had already been done tonight. Nothing could fix that. Not kind words or justifications. Draco knew exactly what Shea wanted to hear from him, but was also wise enough not to give it to him. Not now. Not so fresh after the wound had been created.

Shea left when he was finished, leaving his dirty dishes and still not saying a single word. Draco watched him go with that familiar ache in the pit of his stomach. He was grateful the man only went upstairs instead of leaving the house. Instead of slamming the front door resolutely behind himself. But having him here in the house felt like there was a hammer still about to drop at any moment. The tides were shifting and he was hopeless to change them. This time, it was out of his control. It felt terrible.

"Bath time, sweet prince," he muttered, pulling Scorpius up from his chair. The boy babbled senselessly in his ear, filling the strangling quiet.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is only a tease of what's really going on beneath the surface... but I can't be sorry. Y'all will just have to keep reading to get the rest! Be sure to let me know what you think in the comments and, as always, thanks for reading!

It all felt weird. Like a dream. Like Teddy was _stuck_ in a dream. And that dream felt so fragile, like it could abruptly end at any moment. Their presence in this house was hanging precariously in the balance. Most every person he'd come into contact with wanted them gone. All except Draco.

But even that was troubling.

Draco had never been a troubling thing to Teddy. He loved the man like a father. Of which he had far too many, already. But Draco was there before most of those others really made any sense to him. He was there when Teddy was a child, shaping who he grew to be. Those three years were deeply ingrained into his being. They weren't something he could just forget. They were a part of him. And that was comforting.

It had always been comforting to think of Draco. It had always been comforting getting to spend any second of time with him.

So why did that feel weird now?

There were a million thoughts running through Teddy's mind. Draco was only a small part of them. A minor inconvenience when put toe-to-toe with some of the others. And all of them mixed together were keeping him awake. And all of them together were giving him a stomachache. And all of them together felt like _too much_.

Turning to his other side for what felt like the hundredth time, Teddy tried to close his eyes again. Trying to pretend like they were at home. Like this was any other night in Harry's own bed.

There were far too many reasons why that couldn't be possible. The missing pressure of the dogs curled up between them. The air smelt stale instead of like the summer rain drifting in through an open window. The mattress was just too soft, like they could fall through it. The little sounds in the middle of the night.

He sighed heavily, glancing back. Harry had been dead asleep since he had crept into bed beside him. It had been clear he was upset, too. Somehow he was able to live with what bothered him. Teddy chocked it up to practice.

Teddy had no way of telling what time it was when the door to their room creaked open. Fearing the worst, he slammed his eyes shut and tried to even out his breathing. Pretending he was asleep. Hoping that could be the end of it. Foolish enough to believe that would stop the man engrossed in shadow in the doorway. On nothing more than a whisper, Draco called out to Teddy several times. He was considerate and quiet, but it was sure to eventually wake Harry. And it was out of protection for his godfather that he finally gave in. He blinked blearily in the dark, watching Draco beckon for him with a crook of his finger.

The anxious pit deep in Teddy's stomach sunk somehow even further when he obeyed. Anticipating the worst. Always anticipating the worst.

"Uncle Dray?" Teddy questioned as he shut the door behind himself. His words were a sleepy lilt of a childhood moniker, slipping out by pure accident. Nevertheless, they brought a smile to Draco's unsure expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Draco whispered, nodding towards the stairs. "I couldn't sleep. I was going to dig into the ice cream I have stashed in the freezer. Bit of a midnight snack. And I remembered that you went to bed without dinner. How do you feel about mint chip?"

Still hesitant, Teddy gave the barest of smiles. He descended the stairs, rubbing at his eyes with a stream of soft yawns. Every bit of extra energy exerted only managed to exacerbate his exhaustion.

"Why is the ice cream a secret?"

Draco shrugged, digging out the dessert from the back of the freezer. "It's not exactly a secret. It's just that Shea and Astoria won't help me eat it. And ice cream eaten alone is a bit sad, isn't it?"

Settling into a bar stool at the counter, Teddy chirped a soft laugh. Apprehension still hung in every one of his limbs. "Dad likes ice cream, too. We should go get him." With how _wrong_ he had felt earlier, having his godfather between them would certainly help. As much as he didn't want to wake him. As much as he knew Harry could use the rest.

"I think we should let your godfather sleep," Draco said, perhaps too quickly. "He's had a rough day. And there's a long week ahead of him. Besides, how often do we get time together? Just us?"

Since Draco had left them behind, Teddy was pretty sure he could count on one hand how many times they had been left alone together. A fact he was fond of throwing in Harry's face whenever he had the chance. Up until a few hours ago, he was still seeing Draco through rose-colored memories.

"Okay," Teddy mumbled and accepted the spoon held out for him.

"So…you're off to Hogwarts soon. Right?" The boy nodded just barely. "Excited?" A small shrug. "Thought about what house you might like?" Another shrug. "Slytherin, right? Follow in my footsteps?"

Teddy blushed, shaking his head vigorously. "I don't think Dad would like that."

"But would you?"

He shook his head even harder, focusing on digging a bite out of the carton. "No…. I don't think that I'm… _that_ way."

It was clear Draco didn't think so either. The way he looked at him in that second of consideration showed exactly what he was thinking. The boy was soft. He was gentle. He _cared_. True Slytherins would eat him alive for that. Something Draco knew from first-hand experience. You have to be tough to hack it in that house. "Gryffindor, then? Do you have a desperate desire to prove yourself?"

"My dad was in Gryffindor."

"Oh, everyone knows that. Harry Potter, greatest wizard of our time, the great Gryffindor poster boy."

"No, my _dad_. My real dad."

Draco froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. "Oh," he breathed, the picture of unsure in this potentially uncomfortable situation. Unsure if this was something they talked freely about or not.

"You're doing it again."

With a frown, Draco licked his spoon clean before setting it on the counter. He leaned forward, hands braced against the laminate and regarded the uncomfortable way Teddy shrunk into himself. "Doing what again?"

The boy cleared his throat and very pointedly kept his gaze in the carton. "Staring at me…." The too-familiar slimy feeling crept into that pit in Teddy's belly. He knew it by heart now. He knew he _hated_ the way it made him feel. He knew he hated what came after that feeling.

"I wasn't staring," Draco said gently. "Not on purpose. I was just…lost in thought. Does that make you uncomfortable?"

Teddy nodded, this movement roving between sure and hesitant with every bob of his head. Calculating if he wanted that fact to be known. "Please, just…." He sighed, dropping off at the end.

He hadn't ever told anyone.

He had promised not to.

Not that it was a promise he was eager to keep. And not one made under delicate circumstances, either. But he wasn't exactly keen to find out what happened when he broke it.

"That's why you left before dinner, then? Because I was _staring_ at you?"

Draco's question was as loud as if he had shouted. It rang through Teddy's head, echoing over and over again until it was a muddled mess. Until he was questioning whether it was even a question at all. It likely wasn't. Draco wasn't a stupid man. And Teddy wasn't very good at hiding his emotions. He was a very outward person. "Yes," he mumbled, hoping to stop the ringing in his ears.

A futile effort.

Once he acknowledged the conversation they were having, the world only became louder. Nearly in slow motion, Teddy set his spoon down as well. Knowing the mistake he was making just a little too late. Knowing where this would eventually lead. And he wasn't ready for that yet. Especially not with Draco. Not after that _look_ earlier. Not after the way it made him feel.

Coming here to this house, even under the circumstances as they were, had been so thrilling for Teddy. Spending time with Draco had sounded so welcoming, even if most of his days were to be spent with strangers. And the idea of being here, away from everything else, was refreshing.

It was his escape – come sooner than he had expected.

Hogwarts was going to be his real escape. Months and months away at a time. Followed by holidays, of course, where his escape would be interrupted. But he felt like he could get through those given enough time away. This was his own, private wishful thinking, anyway.

But that _look_ ….

The bad things had only followed him.

And perhaps they would only continue to follow him wherever he might try to run.

His little heart beating faster than was likely healthy, Teddy curled further into himself. He placed a hand over his chest, feeling the erratic beat under his palm. Feeling every happy thought he had about this man before him dissolving like sand through his fingers. Like dreams…disappearing before he even had a single chance at them.

" _Why_?"

The answer was too much of the truth. The answer was likely to lead to his broken promise. And whatever was to follow that….

"Teddy…. Are you uncomfortable with your body? Do you have an issue with how it looks?" Teddy groaned, his head falling into his arms crossed over the counter. "Okay, then what is it?" So deeply shrunk into himself, the boy didn't answer. He didn't know how. And if he opened his mouth, the wrong thing was sure to come out. "Okay, if you won't talk…." From his position, he could hear the lid being snapped onto the ice cream container. The spoons clinked into the basin of the sink. The freezer door suctioned open and closed. A different kind of fear swelled inside of Teddy.

Draco was going to give up. But if he gave up, Teddy couldn't tell the truth.

Even though he wasn't certain he wanted to.

"Why were you staring at me?" he asked quickly, head lifting to see Draco standing across the counter from him once again. Not looking like he had a single intention to leave.

Draco smiled sadly leaned in just a bit closer. "Teddy, when I left…. Merlin, you were so young. I hate that I left you when you were that young. I hate what that must have done to you. My decision to leave did not just affect me or your godfather, I know that. And for that I'm sorry. So…I'm sorry if I was making you uncomfortable…but I feel like I've missed a lot. I feel like whenever I get to see you, it's never enough. So…I'm sorry, again, but I was just taking advantage of a stolen moment. I was merely recounting all of the time I lost with you. Seeing how much you've grown and changed. Thinking about how much I've missed."

It was silly. Teddy had overreacted. Majorly. He had read that look incredibly wrong.

He had seen a ghost where none existed.

A blush darkened the boy's cheeks. He felt foolish. "I'm sorry….," he whispered. "I just…. I thought…."

"You thought what, Teddy?" Draco's voice was gentle, but pressing. And in the way he looked at him now, he was sure that Draco knew. He knew, or at least partially knew, what was wrong. He knew this secret was unsavory. He knew that something was _wrong_.

"I thought…that something bad was going to come from the way you were looking at me." They weren't the words Teddy wanted to speak. They felt like a lie. Like a half-truth.

Either Draco didn't know how to respond to this or was unsure if he should. Whatever it was, he was left floundering like a fish, his brow furrowed in thought. And in the end, he could only manage a soft, "What?" A cross between disbelief and confusion.

"I think I'm going to go back to bed," Teddy said slowly, pulling himself out of his chair. "Thanks for the ice cream, Uncle Draco. See you tomorrow."

All Draco wanted to do was stop the boy. To shout at him and smash his hands against the counter. To tell him that couldn't be enough of an explanation. But in the end, he watched him go. He couldn't find the words to keep him there, mostly because his head was full of nothing but static.

It wasn't just that something was wrong with Teddy. Someone was hurting him. And there were far too many possibilities as to how. Draco was crawling in his skin just thinking about it.

Needless to say, he didn't sleep a single wink that night. There was far too much eating away at Draco's heart to sleep. Far too much to even consider it. And most of those things, he had no control over. Shea, the case, Astoria still not being home, the way Scorpius whimpered in his sleep through the baby monitor.

Teddy. Of course Teddy.

The sun was just starting to peek in through the windows when Draco gave up on trying to figure anything out. Sleep, problem solving, _anything_. And it was, coincidentally, then that one of the issues decided to solve itself. As he stood to try and stretch out even just a hint of the tension in his shoulders, the front door opened and Astoria came in literally stumbling.

"Oh, shit," she giggled, tripping over her own feet as she attempted to wrangle her heels off. She then proceeded to hush herself, falling back against the door.

"Morning, love," Draco said smoothly, cautiously stepping closer.

"Oh, honey, is he still making you sleep down here? That barbarian!"

Draco laughed gently, lacking any real depth. His entire night, from the fight with Shea to the mystery of Teddy, had no humor in it. "I'm pretty sure I deserve the couch. If you had been at dinner, you would know why."

Finally managing to get her shoes off, Astoria straightened. Mostly. She was still tottering a bit like she was in a boat. "I was at dinner. Just not here." She erupted into a fit of giggles again, ignoring her friend's unmatched mirth. "What did you do now? This can't all be about Potter, still. As much as everything is always about Harry Fucking Potter…."

It took Draco a long moment to weigh the stench of alcohol on her breath to his degree of desperation. Even if he did let it all out right now, there was a possibility she wouldn't retain a thing. Which could be good or bad considering her advice. "I'll tell you when you've sobered up," he settled on and guided her towards the stairs.

"Nooo," Astoria whined, barreling back against Draco on a misstep. "I'm not ready for bed. I'm wide awake!" The slur to her tongue unveiled that lie pretty clearly.

"You've been up all night."

"Yeah, yeah…but I did a little bit of cocaine. Just a little bit. So I'm okay! I'm fully awake!" Looking like she'd just had a brilliant idea, she practically ran off towards the kitchen. "We should make breakfast!"

Making breakfast was probably the last thing Astoria should be doing in her current state. Knives, fire, breakable dishware…. It all spelt disaster. "Tor, I think we've discussed why cocaine is a no-go for you now." She waved Draco off, digging through the fridge. "Your heart is already delicate. Something like that could kill you."

"That might have been the point, darling."

And just like that, with a careless slip of the tongue, Draco's ten-mile list of worries gained another problem. "Is that how you want to go?" he whispered, afraid to speak in a normal tone. Afraid to speak it too loud. Afraid that just might make it true.

As if in slow motion, Astoria turned on her heel and let the refrigerator fall closed. "If it means not waiting for my body to give up on its own…then maybe."

She wasn't sure and that gave Draco comfort. Just a little. He nodded, pretending like he understood. But he didn't. He couldn't. They had known Scorpius' birth had weakened her just as much as it had him since shortly after. It was no surprise. It was also no surprise that she was angered by it. But this…. This was all new.

"Besides, it really would be the best 'fuck you' to my parents," Astoria tried to joke. Her eyes were starting to droop a bit. The exhaustion starting to take a better hold in light of their serious conversation. "Imagine how angry they would be when the scandal broke. The wayward daughter of a high class family, dead by overdose. Seems a bit like justice to me, tarnishing their image more…."

Above them, the squeak of a mattress broke their tension. There was so much left for Draco to say. So much for him to object to and stomp his feet over. But Scorpius' voice shouting for him came through the monitor in the living room a moment later, giving him limited time. "Astoria…," he started, his heart breaking even further at her sad smile. "I have a thousand reasons to beg you not to try anything like that, but none of them matter. It's your life." He stepped closer to her, wincing as Scorpius cried out even louder. "If you felt like indulging my selfishness, you'd hold on a bit longer." Returning her hollow smile, Draco encircled Astoria in his arms, holding her tighter than he could ever remember doing before. She shook with silent sobs beneath him, something he couldn't in that moment interpret as a good or bad thing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure why, but this chapter was hard to write. That's why it was so long coming. But here it is! And my heart is still aching from writing it. As always, I love to hear your thoughts on every chapter! Comments are always appreciated! Here's hoping the next chapter comes faster!

 

The appeal of America was dead as of 7:06 in the morning.

"Dad,  _are_  you and Uncle Draco back together?" Teddy asked, peeking over Harry's shoulder at the bold headline of the Evening Prophet from the night previous.

**Chosen One on Holiday in America:**

_**Romantic rendezvous with ex-lover Draco Malfoy?** _

Harry wasn't in the least bit surprised Rita Skeeter had gotten ahold of this story. Nor was he surprised that this was the direction she had chosen to go with it. He  _was_  rather surprised that they didn't have some sort of picture of the two of them together. That didn't mean he wasn't angry. " _No_ ," he snapped, flipping the newspaper over and throwing it into the mattress with a vengeance. "Why is this even here? We don't read the Prophet. It's nothing but trash."

Teddy shrugged, flipping it back over and scanning the article for himself. "It was in the kitchen with a note from Uncle Draco's mum. I didn't read the note."

Snatching the newspaper back, Harry rolled his eyes. "Did you get breakfast, then?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, Uncle Draco made me oatmeal before he left for work."

With a frown, Harry pulled himself up out of bed. His back ached from lying prone for so long and he could feel the mistake of skipping dinner last night. He was starving. "He's already left?" When Teddy nodded again, Harry sighed heavily and pulled off his night shirt. If Draco had already left, he was late. He could only imagine what that could mean as far as the case was concerned. Draco was already probably telling Deacon Harry's theory. Probably taking credit for it, too. "Is somebody going to be home to watch you today?"

"Yeah, Shea's downstairs with the baby. We're going for a walk when they finish eating."

Harry was hastily pulling on a dress shirt, making a noise of frustration when he realized he'd mismatched his buttons. "Sounds nice," he muttered, thinking something entirely different. Thinking that he still wasn't sure that he trusted the Muggle man with his child. And also thinking that he really didn't have much of a choice otherwise. "Help him with whatever he needs today, okay? I'm going to give him your colored pencils. Every chore earns you back another one. Got it?"

"Got it!"

Teddy's smile was so wide it made Harry's heart ache. He still didn't know what was going on with the boy, but being here seemed to have lifted his spirits. Being here made him happy. There was a small spring in his step that he hadn't seen in quite some time. But now wasn't the time to figure out why. There were children's lives depending on Harry. The boy would have to wait.

For now, he would just have to be content that Teddy was okay. Or at least that he was projecting to be.

The sooner they finished all of this up, the sooner things would go back to normal.

The luxury of being anonymous was now fully gone. The instant Harry's feet touched the floor inside MACUSA Headquarters, whispers drifted around him. Heads turned as he walked and the familiar feeling of responsibility settled back into his shoulders. Deacon's little name drop had definitely been effective.

He hurried to the lift as best as he could with all of the attention surrounding him. All of the people stopping him to say 'good morning' and introduce themselves. To welcome him and enquire what he might have been doing there. Rumors already flying after Rita's article. Harry could only imagine how Draco's morning was going…. Perhaps that was why he had left so early - avoid most of the prying people.

Once Harry hit their department, the chatter only worsened. Everyone around him somehow thought that since he was working for their boss, they were somehow working together. One guy even went so far as to congratulate them – both of them – on the amazing work they were doing. Even though he most likely had no idea what it was Harry was working on in the first place.

"Oh, fuck off, Lipinski. The hardest you've worked in the last year was when you chased after that witness to get her name. I wouldn't call that amazing, in any respect."

Draco was an asshole in method, but in that moment Harry couldn't help but to regard him as a saint. In the man's floundering silence, they took their chance to steal away to their office. Slamming the door behind them with nervous laughter. "I'm going to  _murder_  Rita Skeeter," Harry joked on a soft breath. An empty threat, of course. The woman had been plaguing his reputation for years now and he was usually good at ignoring it. He avoided the Prophet like the plague. And he had avoided her "tell-all" biography of his life even harder. He was usually able to get away with this because it rarely affected his day-to-day life these days.

"The Golden Sentinel, the American paper, did an article, too. You'll have a lot of murdering to do if that's the way you want to go," Draco whispered back, his face so damn close. His breath right in Harry's mouth. He could taste the pepperiness of his toothpaste.

Trying not to breathe it in too deeply, Harry took a half-step away. "You're in early. Did you have a breakthrough?"

Shaking his head vigorously, Draco followed in that half-step. "No. I just couldn't…stand to be around the tension any longer." He smirked. "I much prefer to be surrounded by this tension. Between us."

It was going to happen. It was bound to. The boundaries were only there to be broken. They were fooling themselves to think otherwise. But not like this.

Harry couldn't help but to feel they hadn't earned it yet.

"Not. In. The. Office," he stressed, slipping around Draco. "Besides, we have more pressing things to worry about. Did you talk to Deacon? We need to set up some more parent interviews."

With Draco behind him, Harry couldn't see the disappointment. But he could definitely hear it. He could  _feel_  it. The man's sigh was abrupt and his tone was short. Like he was trying to restrain himself. "He's not in yet. He took the new assistant to breakfast. It's his tradition for the first day." Trying and failing.

Attempting to lighten the mood – the  _wrong_  kind of tension – Harry let himself into their now-shared office. "He didn't buy me breakfast on my first day."

"I should say - it's his tradition for the ones he's trying to fuck."

"Am I not fuckable?"

They were apparently doomed to keep toeing this line. It was too easy. Too comfortable. But that didn't mean Harry didn't cringe the instant the words left his mouth. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, lowering himself into the chair on his side of the desk. Regret written into every single inch of his body.

"If you're asking my opinion…the answer is 'of course you are'." Draco's breath was hot on the back of Harry's neck. Just close enough to tease him. To drive him wild. "But you're not quite Deacon's type. He likes them young enough to almost be illegal and heavily endowed with equipment you don't have."

"That's a shame.  _You see,_ Deacon's a real catch."

Draco snorted a laugh. "Now I know why you and I never worked out. You're clearly into older men."

"Yeah, that's why we didn't work out…."

The tension around them shifted again. It seemed to always be shifting these days. Roaming between heavy and hot to prickly and uncomfortable in a chaotic loop. "I know," Draco mumbled, stepping away quickly. Like he had finally come to his senses again. Harry couldn't help but to feel just a bit lighter when Draco settled into his seat across from him. The solid wood between them. Boundaries set just as they should be. Their roles just as they should be. Draco feeling sorry for himself, a deep self-hatred written in every single restrained limb. Harry trying to be the more put-together party, putting on the brave face of a well-trained poster boy.

Even with that stiff atmosphere between them, they actually worked rather well together. It was like the lack of comfort propelled them into being productive. Or…it might also have been that they were just  _good_  together.

A possibility neither of them felt up to acknowledging quite yet.

By the time Deacon rolled in, around an hour later, they already had a full-formed plan for their day. A set of interviews lined up and scheduled out. And if they went the way Harry was hoping they would, he had a solid plan ready for the next day as well. A plan to tear into the Misuse of Magic office and demand to know who was misusing  _their_  magic.

Wearing a grin as big as ever, Deacon strolled in and made a show of clapping his hands together. "Alright, boys, a new assistant has been hired. Her name is Lexi. Be nice to her. And don't fucking fire her." He gave Draco a pointed look to which he received the most dramatic eye roll.

"Glad that's out of the way. That clearly was the most pressing issue at hand," Draco snapped. "Can we focus on the dead kids now?"

Deacon narrowed his eyes with obviously restrained venom. "You see, I was under the impression that was why we brought in Mr. Potter here. To help you with that."

The tension crippled Draco's patience. He stood abruptly from his chair, signaling for Harry to do the same. "And I was under the impression that you were still the head of this department. Should I not be consulting you before testing out leads?"

Harry remained in his seat, shirking down a bit. Their working relationship was so hostile…. "You see, a simple owl would do," Deacon seethed, waving his hand in the air. His impatience clear as day. "But since you've waited, what is your oh-so-important theory?"

Miraculously, it didn't take much convincing to get Deacon on board. Sure, he was a bit peeved that he hadn't been the one to see it, but he didn't try to convince them to change tactics. Within just a few minutes, Harry and Draco were rushing out of the office with a validated sense of purpose.

Six sets of parents later, Harry was sure he was never going to let Teddy out of his sight again.

"Sir, no disrespect…but we've already given our statements to at  _least_  three different sets of cops. We're not keen to go another round…."

With a heavy sigh, Harry nodded. "I understand that, Mr. Manelo. I only have a few extra questions. I've already read those other interviews, so we can just consider this a follow-up."

The man, Ricardo Manelo, reached for his partner's hand. Graham gripped back fiercely, still quiet. Still refusing to speak a word. The reports Harry had pored over had said the same from the first visit months ago. "It's been months since… _since_ …." Ricardo dropped off, his voice breaking as his outside defenses crumbled. "It's never going to get easier if you don't let us heal."

"Is this something you could ever really heal from?" Draco hissed. Harry couldn't miss his shoulders tensed beside him. He couldn't miss the anger radiating off of him. "Your child is dead. How do you  _heal_  from that?"

"Do you have kids?" Ricardo snapped back, inching towards anger himself.

"We do."

Frowning at the way Draco phrased it, Ricardo softened. Just a touch. "Together?"

It was Harry's turn to stiffen. He glanced sideways at Draco, just daring him to air their dirty laundry to these strangers. But in the end, the answer went the opposite of what he was expecting. Thankfully. "No. We each have a son of our own."

"Just the one?" Draco nodded. "Okay, consider this, then…. Pretend you were in our position. Your child just died from mysterious circumstances. Poisoned in his own home. In his own  _bed_. You and your significant other are devastated. But it's not just that. You also have a newborn baby. A baby who has no idea what has just happened. All she knows is that she depends on you for absolutely everything. Don't you think, in some capacity, you might want to recover from your tragedy so that your small, defenseless daughter has a chance at a normal life?"

In a violent flashback, Harry was reminded of a year ago. Of the fear he felt when Teddy had his near-death experience. These men were right. If the boy had died…he wouldn't have been able to move on. But he didn't have another child to look after. There was no way either of them could truly understand.

"You're right. I don't think I could ever really know how that feels," Harry said gently, standing up. "I, uh…I need to step out a moment. Give the two of you a chance to mull over just what this means for our investigation. And if you haven't changed your mind about answering any questions by the time I get back, I promise you that we will leave. Excuse me."

Too many thoughts buzzing around in his head, Harry all but stumbled his way out of house. He was reeling. The entirety of this day and this case catching up with him in a violent, breath-stealing whirlwind. The instant he hit the startling sunshine, he pulled out a cigarette and fumbled with several matches in attempt to light it.

The door opened and closed behind him and Harry breathed heavily, pulling the cigarette from his lips with a sigh. "You're being too harsh, Dray."

"He's fine. This isn't an easy situation. There's no easy way to handle it."

Frowning, Harry turned towards the door. Graham, the silent half of the parents, was leaning against the house. "Sorry, I thought-"

The man smiled and shrugged. "I know what you thought. It's okay." He pushed off the house, pulling a brass lighter from his pocket. "Can I bum one off of you if I give you a light?" Harry nodded quickly and pulled out another cigarette. They leaned in over the flame of the lighter, pulling in deep breaths together until the ends were lit. "Thanks," Graham whispered around a lung-full of smoke. "I haven't smoked since Echo was born…." He ran the pad of his thumb over the inscription of his name on the lighter, head tilting to the side. There were unmistakable tears in his eyes. "It was a gift from Ricky. He gave it to me on our first anniversary. The only time I use it now…is on birthdays. To light the candles on the cake. Echo's birthday was the day before…. I haven't been able to stop carrying it since."

Harry didn't know what to say. He didn't even know if there was something  _to_  say. There was no amount of apologies he could give that would make this okay in any respect.

"Look…." Graham paused, watching the ash build at the end of his cigarette for an extended moment. "I know who you guys are. Who you really are. I went to Ilvermorny. I know your name, Mr. Potter."

"You're a wizard," Harry whispered, his brow furrowed.

"I was. I don't consider magic a part of my life anymore." Smiling tightly, Graham took another long drag. "It wasn't something that runs in my family. I was the only one. I didn't like the way that made me feel. Alienated…. So when I met Ricky, I put it all behind me. Haven't looked back since.

"Until today. Why the  _fuck_  is MACUSA interested in my son's murder?"

Swallowing hard, Harry took one last puff before stamping his cigarette under foot. The nicotine was coursing through his veins. He could feel it racing in his heart. But the fuzziness in his head continued. He wasn't in the right frame of mind for this. He wasn't up for this…. It was too much. This case was too much. "The poison used…was a potion. Echo's murderer was also a wizard…and we're just trying to figure out why they're interested in non-magical children."

"Echo  _was_  magical." The words came on a broken sob. The tension in Graham's shoulders snapped as all composure was lost. Right there on the front porch, luckily surrounded by their privacy hedges, he sunk down to his knees and started gasping for air between each hard sob and difficult word. "Ricky doesn't know. I didn't know how to tell him," he sobbed, clutching at his chest. His nails dragging angry red lines into the skin not covered by the opened top buttons of his shirt. "He was mine. Echo was mine. We used  _my_ …. He has my genes. And he inherited my gift. He had a way with flowers and trees and grass. Things  _bloomed_  around him…. It was amazing. Almost enough to make me return to that world. I was just waiting for his letter to come…."

What seemed like a hundred different emotions were running through Harry's mind. Right at the top – frustration. If this were true, it meant their theories were wrong. They weren't Muggleborn children. Not all of them. This didn't match up with everything else. Absolutely everything else was lining up perfectly. And then there was  _this_. "All of the other boys so far-"

Graham's head shot up like he couldn't believe what he'd heard. "There are  _more_?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Twelve more, that we know of. Echo…seems to have been the first. All boys. All just shy of eleven years of age. All appearing to have magical ability, despite their non-magical parentage. Except for your son, apparently."

There was no question as to why Graham was struck silent. Draco and Deacon hadn't told any of the victims' parents of the other murders. It was hard enough to accept that their child had been murdered. It would be even harder to grasp that their child had only been one in a sick pool. Being ignorant of this, Harry had just walked this man into the middle of that pool, in high danger of drowning in it.

Harry itched to reach for his wand. The only thing stopping him was his lack of skill in this specific area of magic. He'd never wiped someone's mind before. That's why they had the Obliviators. "Mr. Manelo…," he muttered, desperately raking his fingers through his hair. " _Graham_ , please… _please_  don't think too hard about this."

"But it's  _my_  fault. I killed my son…."

"No, no, none of this is your fault!"

Graham stood abruptly, glaring Harry down. Soundlessly daring him to deny it again. "If I had been more  _honest_  with Ricardo about who I was and…what I was…."

"The  _only_  one at fault here is the person who did this to your son," Harry said quickly, taking a step back. "And I'm going to catch that person. I promise you that."

"That won't bring Echo back!"

" _Harry_." Draco was standing in the doorway to the house, his fingers deathly tight on the handle. "I think it's time we go."

His tone…. Harry couldn't ever remember hearing him sound so...ashamed. Not like this. Not ashamed of  _him_. Hanging his head, Harry nodded and back-stepped on the porch. "I'm sorry, Graham. I'm  _so_  sorry. I'm going to find them, okay? I'm promising you that, right now. Do you believe me?"

"Why can't  _you people_  just leave my life alone?"

Draco's tight grip was on Harry's upper arm and in seconds the world around them shifted. Before Harry could even prepare himself with a bracing breath, he was squeezed through space and deposited in unfamiliar surroundings. A forest he didn't recognize. He spun in a circle, trying to make sense of it before facing the other again. "We need to get back to the office. I think I was wrong. I think I have the wrong angle."

Before he could pull himself together, Draco quickly closed the distance between them. Whispering, "Stop talking for two seconds," before crashing their mouths together.

Harry had every single intention of pushing him off. But the way his head cleared in that kiss…. The world stopped spinning and this man in front of him suddenly felt like the only thing that mattered. He pulled in a long breath through his nose before settling his arms around Draco's neck. Cinching them closer and deepening the kiss.

"You broke your contract," Draco managed in the small window that they broke for breath. His hands were heavy and searching, yanking Harry's shirt from his trousers. "Deacon knows by now. You're going to be off the case."

It felt like a cut. But instead of blood rushing out, the chaos of the world was rushing right back in. Slowly at first. A trickle. Like little bees buzzing in his ears. Closing his eyes, Harry forced himself to push Draco back. Just enough to dislodge their lips. "I didn't mean to tell him. It just slipped out. I was wrong, Dray. Graham told me that he was a wizard. He was the boy's biological father. I just…lost it after that. I was wrong…and that leaves us back at square one."

Draco shook his head vigorously, his lips peppering soft touches on any inch of Harry's skin he could reach. The side of Harry's hand, the tear-drenched curve of his cheek, his bottom lip that wouldn't quit its quivering. "Today has been too much. This week…has been too much. We threw all of this at you too fast. You're exhausted and you're losing your grip. Take deep breaths, Harry. I need you to calm down before we go back to the office."

The instant Harry were to step foot in that office, his chance at helping these kids was surely over. The cut in reality turned into a tear. The buzzing of bees was now a full swarm. His head fell forward into Draco's chest, the man's hands soothing at the exposed small of his back. "I'll talk to him," Draco cooed. He was so soft and understanding. More real with him in that moment than he had been in four years. Since that stolen moment in the bathroom at Harry's wedding. "And we'll figure out what this means for the case. But for now…I need you to just breathe. You're no use to me frazzled. Breathe…and disconnect. Disconnect from the victims. From comparing them to Teddy. From feeling like you can't help them. Just let it all go for now and focus on me."

When Harry closed his eyes, all he could see was liquid silver boring into every part of him. Draco's eyes and the way they glazed when he was vulnerable. The small things that made him fall in love in the first place. The velvet of his voice when it was just them and they could be real with one another. The instant feeling of protection he had in the middle of who-knows-where just from the body securely wrapped around him.

The instant feeling of protection absolutely no one else in the world could give him.

"I love you, Harry. For now just think about that."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of emotions. Sorry not sorry....  
> Just a fair warning, this might be the last chapter for a couple weeks. Might. We will see. I start IUI as soon as this weekend and I think I might end up being too nervous/anxious/excited about the outcome to get anything productive done. We will see. Wish us luck, though! And, as always, I do appreciate any comments on what you guys are thinking while reading. Enjoy!

 

Deacon wasn't mad, he was disappointed. He said so at least five times. But Harry couldn't blame him.

After nearly an hour spent on the forest floor, surrounded by nothing but nature and Draco's soft voice, Harry felt marginally better. He wasn't one hundred percent, but there was a mask firmly in place over his face. A convincing mental replica of himself. The person he projected to be, at least. Harry Potter – the Boy Who Lived. The great savior. The  _Chosen One_. Unapologetically brazen and heroic. Doing his job with complete disregard to whatever it might cost him in the end.

To keep that mask in place, Harry sat in Deacon's office with his arms crossed and his expression unmoving. Every bit that perfect picture. Draco was at his side, also wearing a convincing façade. They had both decided that it would be best to present a united front. An unrepentant united front.

"Honestly, you're just lucky our contract didn't have dangerous repercussions. Most of them do, you see. Most of them are drafted with a death and dismemberment clause. I asked that to be left out of your contract. You see, I thought I wouldn't need it. I thought you might actually live up to your name."

Everyone was disappointed when Harry Potter didn't live up to his name.

Harry had been instructed to let Draco do the talking. To let him try and smooth things over. After all, Draco knew Deacon best. He knew what angle to play, if there was one needed. But he was itching to say something to defend himself. He was itching to tell Deacon off and let him know just where he could shove his 'mercy'.

The only thing stopping him was the still-lingering tingle of Draco's lips upon his own within the last hour.

" _I love you, Harry. For now just think about that."_

He couldn't  _stop_  thinking about it. The words were stuck in Harry's head. Repeating over and over on a haunting loop. The last nine years of his life kept flashing through his mind with every repetition. From the first time Draco had said those words to now. And just how much their meaning had evolved since then.

They had never felt like protection before.

They had never felt like  _this_  before.

"Can you just get to the point, Deacon?" Draco eventually snapped, just before Harry was ready to do the same. "Are you kicking Potter off the case or not?"

His jaw squared and ready to snap, Deacon leaned over his desk. He hadn't sat down once in the last half hour. He just stood there, scolding them like they were his errant teenage children. "You see…I haven't decided that yet," he seethed through his teeth.

At least that explained the endless lecture. Draco rolled his eyes, pushing up from his chair like he'd had enough. "Then we'll give you the rest of the night to mull it over," he said coolly back.

Almost like he was in a drunken haze, Harry stood up beside him. Draco's hand was on the small of his back, pinky finger pressing just so between the notches of his spine. Just a small burn of pressure to keep him grounded. Most likely unintentional.

This wasn't how Harry wanted to be seen throughout MACUSA Headquarters. Brittle, eyes rounded, and Draco Malfoy's hand in a potentially compromising position. But Draco wasn't actually leaving him much of a choice. And neither was the unsteady exhaustion hanging in every single one of his muscles. "You're fueling the wrong kind of attention," Harry warned, tempted by but not fully committed to pulling away. "I can manage. I'm not fragile. I won't break. You could let me go. I promise not to faint."

Draco smirked. "Since when does the great and powerful Harry Potter worry about rumors?" He didn't remove his hand. If anything, he pressed a bit harder.

They were marching through the entrance, surrounded in plain daylight by hundreds of prying eyes. It felt like every single one of them was searing right through Harry. That mixed with the enervation made for one paranoid cocktail. Like he had no control over himself any longer, Harry's heart quickened again right along with his pace and his breath. "Since you asked me to come here, pissing off my husband, and putting my secure life on the rocks."

Harry's words came out harsher than he had intended. He could tell by the way Draco's breath hitched and his hand finally fell from Harry's back. But he didn't say a single word in reply until they had both apparated back to his backyard. And when he did…. "If your life and your marriage were so fucking secure,  _Potter_ , you wouldn't be fucking me every chance you can get. Sorry, not every chance. Just the ones that fit into your tight and perfect little rules."

Ice replaced the warm feeling on Harry's spine as he watched Draco stalk into the house. He couldn't deny the words spat in his face. Or the way they made him feel. They were true, even if they were harsh. He was useless to defend himself against them. Not that he wasn't going to try. His life was far from secure, so he wasn't willing to give up the one thing that he did secretly take security from.

"Draco, listen-"

"Daddy! Wook! I did you a pit're!"

"Not  _now_ , Scorpius!"

"Where Daddy's happy go?"

Harry sighed heavily, watching Draco stomp up the stairs from the bottom landing. Shea, Teddy, and Scorpius were all standing behind him. Watching him with those same prying eyes as everyone at MACUSA. Watching him pine after Draco like some sort of lovesick teenager. Two of them were people he'd never want to see him like this. Not now. Not with the way things were. Snapping to for a brief moment, Harry put on a fake smile. "We just had a rough day," he explained, only giving a half-lie. A lie of omission.

The look on Shea's face from across the room said he saw right through it.

But there was something else in his eyes Harry couldn't quite identify. Something that softened the judgement just a tinge.

"I don't know, baby boy," Shea said gently. His fingers graced the toddler's familiar blonde locks for just a moment before he sighed and walked towards the stairs himself. "Stay with your cousin, Scorpy. Papa's going to go find Daddy's happy."

If only it were that easy.

"Draco? Sugar?"

Draco winced at the pet name. It felt like a sharp slap even with the sweet tone behind it. He didn't look up at Shea – he didn't want to see that same anger inevitably still in his eyes. So all he could manage was to sit there on the edge of their bed, hands knotting in his lap like a nervous child. "You're talking to me again?" he asked on a cautious breath.

"Our son is worried about you," Shea answered just as quietly. A moment later, the mattress dipped next to Draco. A steadier hand slipped between his own. Threading their fingers and squeezing with surprisingly gentle pressure. "And I am, too. I know that look on your face, Sugar. I know that weight in your shoulders. You're on the edge of a breakdown."

Swearing inward, Draco vowed to police his emotions a little better. There was no way enough time had passed for them to openly discuss how dark he was feeling. More importantly, they weren't in the right place for the reason behind it. He hung his head, allowing it to fall heavily into his free hand. He felt sick. He felt…over it. All of it.

He was feeling the need to flee again.

He felt like a coward.

"Everything is falling apart around me," Draco whispered. Every single vibration of his voice shook in a way that caused him to blush. He so desperately wanted to be stronger than this. It's all he had ever wanted. "Every _one_  is falling apart around me." There wasn't a single stable person in his life. Not really. Shea was probably the most put-together of them all. But even he was teetering after last night. His presence at Draco's side in that moment didn't change this. It didn't change the strain between them.

All it did was solidify what Draco already knew – Shea was far too pure for him.

A strangling silence overtook them for several long minutes. These were sensitive waters they were treading. It was dangerous and something thick like water was clogging their lungs and their windpipes. Filling their limbs and tongues with lead and making it nearly impossible to do or say anything.

"What can I do to help?" Shea finally asked, running his thumb over Draco's knuckles. "I'm here to listen if you just want to talk about it."

The problem was, Draco didn't want to talk about it. He didn't even want to  _think_  about it. Any of it. He wanted a clear head and an even clearer conscience.

But maybe…if he let it all out, his heavy heart would feel just a bit lighter.

Once he gave himself permission, Draco found the words fumbling past his lips. All too eager to be heard. "You know that little trail you loved back in Chico? The one that's hidden in the trees in Bidwell Park? You called it your fairy path once…. You scratched our initials into the stone that hides it. It's your place…. It's  _our_  place.

"I took him there. To our place. To our little forest. I don't know why. He was freaking out over our case and…I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know where else to go. I needed him to calm down and I couldn't think of any place more peaceful. And I…." Draco sighed. "I fucked up. Once he was there…he tainted it. He tainted that place."

"Did you fuck him there?" Shea asked, his voice soft and restrained. Unwavering. How was he this calm? He ought to be angry or…upset. Even though neither of them mentioned a name, there was absolutely no doubt who 'he' was. Draco deserved whatever wrath he might want to give in whatever form he chose to release it.

"No," Draco mumbled back, his own voice still full of the shake Shea lacked. "But I told him I loved him. It was the first time I've said it to him in seven years. The first time be heard it, anyway. It doesn't count when he's asleep or when I know he can't hear me…. And I held him. And I…kissed him. And somehow…that time felt different than all of the others since his wedding. It snapped something inside of me. I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop thinking about  _him_. And I feel so…guilty. So slimy. And I hate that I'm telling you this right now…."

Losing Shea was breaking Draco more than he had expected. He did care for the man. Deeply. And somewhere under the shadow of Harry's greatness, he was sure he loved him. Had the world worked differently, he might have even been 'the one'.

The instant Shea began to speak, Draco was certain of that fact. "Jesus Christ, Draco, would you quit babbling?" His head whipped up, scouring Shea's icy blue eyes for some sort of meaning. "I know I said I would let you talk," Shea said softly, standing once again. A small skip quaked Draco's heart at the absence. "And I will let you continue talking in just a moment. But first, I need you to understand something.

"I love you, Sug'. And even though you've never said it, I'm ninety-nine point nine percent certain you love me, too. It may not be as intense as your feelings for him…for  _Harry_. But I can live with that. I know how to live with that. I wouldn't be living the life I do if I couldn't. What I said last night…. I didn't mean it. Not all of it. Especially not the part about you being cold. You're not cold. You're one of the sweetest men I've ever met, even if you don't know it. And the way you are with Scorpius? I fall in love with you again every time I see you fall deeper in love with that little boy.

"You're not cold. You're wonderful and warm and I don't want to lose you." Shea sank to his knees on the carpet, reaching out to ghost his fingers over Draco's kneecaps. "But I don't want you to lose him, either. I didn't know he was the reason for it, but you've been different. Happier. I thought it was Scorpius. Or maybe it was returning to your world. Maybe both of those things were a part of it. But I think it was Harry who really made you happy. And I like it when you're happy. I like the man you are…when you're happy.

"So…what I want to do for you, Draco…is to set you free."

It was no longer just a threat. Draco really was losing Shea. He was losing him and there would be nothing left to lean on. Not with Harry still being so committed to his 'stable' life. The skipping of his heart accelerated. He felt like it would beat right out of his chest. Bracing himself for what was to come. Silent tears dangerously close to breaking past his eyelashes. "Do you want me to move out?" he whispered, unconfident in the stability of his full voice. Several fears clenched his stomach at once, ranging from losing his ability to see Scorpius whenever he wanted to the loneliness of truly having no one again. He felt like he was going to be sick.

For a terrifyingly drawn out moment, Shea only stared at Draco. His eyes narrowed, his lips set into a deep frown. But when he finally spoke again, he was still kind. Still far more than forgiving. "Sugar, no. Are you even listening to me?" he chuckled, scooting in closer. He leant up, pressing a surprising and chaste kiss to Draco's bottom lip. "That's not what I meant. I meant…I'm allowing you to have the freedom you won't allow yourself. I'm giving you my permission to let that other man make you happy. But I'm not letting you go, myself. You're staying here as long as you still want to. Got it?"

What had Draco ever done in his life to deserve something so  _good_?

Helpless to stop them, Draco felt the warm tracks of tears falling over his cheeks. He hung his head in shame, avoiding the kind look and the soothing words. "What on earth makes you think I'm worthy of that?"

"You're worthy of the world, Draco," Shea said with an unwavering smile. "So quit being a drama queen." A disgustingly watery laugh burbled up from Draco's throat before he could help it. But deep inside, he felt that familiar darkness. The call to run. "Now…what else is on your mind? What else can I help you fix?"

Doubting Shea could fix a single one of his damn problems, Draco snorted derisively and spewed out, "This case is trying every ounce of humanity I have. Every ounce I suppressed for years. Every ounce that haunts me because of the things I have done. And working so closely with Potter on it all is killing me. I feel like we're teenagers again, except this time I'm choosing the right side. And I hate how wrong that feels. I hate that the biases instilled in me since I was a child still linger just under the surface. I hate that I can't get rid of them no matter how much I scrub at my soul. I took this job to help people. I like helping people. But this case…. It's hitting too close to the way things used to be. It's bringing up those old memories again.

"So when I come home, all I want is a little of the stability I've built for myself. But…these days that seems a little out of reach. Astoria doesn't care if she lives anymore. Scorpius is a blessing but also a mess. It seems every day there's something new trying to kill him. I couldn't bear to lose either of them. But if I lost them both? It's a silly thing to worry about. Neither of them are in danger of keeling over tomorrow…. Well, Astoria might if she keeps doing coke at crazy hours in the morning. Which I'm sure you already knew about. She tells you everything.

"And to top all of that off…something is wrong with Teddy. Which is not my fault…or even my problem, as he's not my son. But I think he's scared of something. Or someone. And since he wouldn't tell me what it is, my mind is just running rampant with disturbing ideas. The worst part is, I don't think he wants Harry to know. I don't think he wants anyone to know. He won't talk about it. So on top of the depressing shit show that today was, I've had that on my conscience. I'm holding a secret back from him and it won't keep gnawing at me. Every time I look at him, I feel like I should tell him. But I don't think I have that right.

"So, tell me…how do you plan to fix any of  _that_?"

His words felt like prickly, volatile vomit. He was greeting Shea's kindness with venom and before the words had even left his mouth, he knew that. But it was too easy to revert into himself when he was upset. It was too easy to put on that mask he'd worn for so. Many. Years.

And Shea, thankfully, found it easy to keep playing the soothing role. "Well, first…you're going to take a deep breath and try to calm down." Nodding, Draco pulled in a breath, holding it for a painful moment before letting it out in a rush. "Next…you're going to lie back and let me help you relax. Understand?"

Though his tone was easy and his words were inviting, Draco couldn't help but to shirk away from the idea. He shook his head, snatching Shea's hands in their pursuit of his belt. Hugging them close to his chest and continuing to take those deep, helpless breaths. "I'm not…. I don't think I could right now. I'm sorry. I know you're trying to help…but…."

"Okay." Shea stood, giving Draco's hands a gentle squeeze before putting his own up in a sign of surrender. "I can take a hint. I'll get dinner going. You come on down when you're ready. Do you want me to send anyone else up?"

Draco shook his head vigorously again. All he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. But that wasn't healthy. That would solve none of his problems. That was the old Draco who cowered in fear and ran away from his problems. He was trying very hard not to be that boy any longer. "I'll come down, too. I've had my moment. I'm fine. I'll be fine." It wasn't a statement he wholeheartedly believed, but he was going to stand by what he said.

In the end, everything currently plaguing him would be fine. His fight with Shea seemed to be solved for the moment. He had permission to keep seeing the man whose heady hands held him together. Eventually they would solve the case…or they wouldn't and he would have to find a way to live with that. Astoria would die eventually. Her heart would give out one way or another, whether she took that power into her own hands or not. Scorpius would be okay. He was weak but also very strong-willed. And Teddy….

This was where Draco vowed to start. He didn't want to run. So if he was going to stay, he was going to have to work on fixing his problems instead of masking them. And the boy was his first challenge.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fought with this chapter for a long time. More specifically, I fought with Harry. He's being moody and stubborn and impossible. But I finally wrangled him! I hope you enjoy the new chapter and please be sure to leave a comment with your thoughts!

 

"Maybe I should sleep with him." For the second full night of his stay, Harry had locked himself in his and Teddy's room yet again. He had taken one look at the family sitting around the dinner table downstairs and fled. Shea had been trying to hatch a plan ever since. "Do you think that would make him more comfortable here?"

Draco sighed and shrugged, like he had been doing in response to every plan Shea had tried to concoct as a solution. "Or…as I've said since last night, you could just talk to him. Harry is extremely oblivious so I would suggest a direct approach. Don't try and play mind games with him. You'll only end up disappointed."

"In other words, you don't want me to sleep with him. Does the thought make you uncomfortable?"

It would be foolish to deny that, yes, Shea and Harry getting intimate did sour Draco's stomach a bit. But he couldn't exactly pinpoint why. "I don't know. And now isn't the time to talk about it." He was itching in his skin. This wasn't a conversation he was ready to have. Not any single part of it. "Let's shelve that discussion for later, okay? I have a favor to ask you before I leave."

Shea chuckled, finally pulling himself out of bed for the morning. "Stay in that position for just a little longer and I'll do anything you ask…."

In the process of bending over to tie his shoe, Draco's face darkened. But he obliged and exhibited himself just a little clearer. A shiver ran up his spine as Shea ran his index finger down the trouser seam that perfectly partitioned his backside. "Careful…," he cautioned. "The more you touch…the harder it is to walk out that door."

"So don't. Stay. Take a personal day and stay home with your family…." Shea's words were soft and inviting. Just the idea of his suggestions made Draco's heart ache with longing.

But he still found himself pulling away. Straightening up and putting distance between them. "I can't, baby. I can't. Something happened yesterday and Harry might be off the case as soon as we get in today. I should be there – no matter what ends up happening. And…I need you here. Helping me, just in case."

With an understanding nod, Shea kept the distance. The fragile shine in his eyes was perfectly mirrored from Draco's own. "What do you need from me?" he asked quietly.

"If they leave tomorrow, I'm afraid for what might happen to Teddy."

Shea's response was shocked, at first. Like he was surprised Draco would trust him with such a task. But he quickly recovered and pulled a demure frown. "You want me to find out what's wrong with the boy?"

"Has he said anything to you? What did he tell you?"

"Nothing yet," Shea whispered, his voice shaky. He wouldn't meet Draco's eyes. "He just…. Teddy keeps saying he's happy to be here. That he doesn't want to go home. He likes it here. I've lost count of how many times he's said it. But I can try and get more today. What has he said to you?"

"He was upset the other night. I tried to pry it out of him, but he wasn't…. He didn't want to talk about it." Draco sighed heavily and pulled on his suit jacket. "He didn't like that I was staring. Said he was afraid something bad was going to come of it." The words had been rolling around in his mind since. Any free chance he had to think, he couldn't keep them from nagging at him. "I need you to figure out why."

"I'm on it."

With that reassurance, Draco kissed the man goodbye and left for the office. He was early again. But it was too awkward walking through the MACUSA entrance hall with the awe and splendor of Harry Potter following behind him. He preferred to be one of the first people in the building for the day, wading through the emptiness under a half-mask of anonymity.

And he wasn't really certain he could handle seeing Harry in a raw, unprofessional state just yet.

One thing at a time.

"You're early."

"As are you," Draco muttered, unable to disguise the clear disappointment upon seeing Deacon already.

Deacon released a slow and heavy breath through his nose. He was busy making a cup of coffee, ladling in far more than the recommended amount of grounds. "Actually, you see…I haven't gone home," he replied, his voice slow and weary.

"You're that upset about yesterday?"

"Forget about what happened yesterday." On the counter next to the French press was a file. It was clean and crisp. No signs of wear or use. They hadn't poured over this one for hours and hours. It was new. "There's been another…. I've been up all night with the parents."

"Why didn't you send me an owl?" Draco asked, rushing to grab the file.

Deacon was just as quick, even in his exhausted state, to try and stop him. "Draco…." Their eyes met, but he was eager to look away. "I fought with myself all night about keeping you on this case. Both of you. And, you see, I-"

With a roll of his eyes, Draco snatched the papers back and stared at the picture pinned inside. "I'm staying on. So is Potter. Stay out of our way. Let us do our jobs. We'll have it solved before this happens again. Before you allow another child to die under your watch."

"I know you're upset," Deacon cautioned, downing half a cup of his thick, almost soupy coffee, "but you can't speak to me like that. I am still your boss. And as your boss…I'm telling you…that you need to do just that. Wrap up this damn nightmare. I'll be napping in my office if either of you need anything."

Draco watched the man shuffle off, his victory feeling like a double-edged sword.

This victim was nothing like the rest. It shattered every theory they had come up with thus far. The only factor that fit the pattern was the weapon. The potion. A potion that hadn't been seen in years due to the difficulty of obtaining its ingredients – blood of a dead man, a whole and crushed dragon's heart, elf skin. Murder begat murder. It would be all too coincidental if there were two killers using it at the same time for different purposes. It was enough to have Draco pulling his hair out.

He looked like an absolute mess by the time Harry rolled into the office. His door was open so he saw him the instant he walked in. He was oblivious. There was no way he could have known what it was he was walking into. It was pointless to warn him ahead of time. So he waltzed through that door looking like an absolute ray of sunshine and it was so frustrating. Like they were back in school and Harry Bloody Potter was walking around the grounds with a smile even though his life was constantly falling apart.

He had a way with optimism that Draco had just never managed to master.

Today was no different. Harry walked in with a bag of pastries and introduced himself to their new assistant – Lexi – like he was damn pleased to meet her. Like he was trying to prove something. He did think his job was still in jeopardy, after all. His temporary one here, at least.

"I brought coffee." Harry set two cups down on the desk. He knew before it was even said where they were from. The tempting scent of the perfect brew and fresh-baked pastries filled Draco with instant, irreplaceable comfort. "It's from that Muggle place Greengrass works at. Shea suggested it. He was…very helpful this morning. Call me crazy, but I don't think he's all that mad at you, anymore. How about Deacon? Did he say anything to you yet?"

" _Martina Guererra. Female. Eleven-Years-Old. Fifth generation Ilvermorny student. Deceased as of ten o'clock last night._  Victim number fifteen."

Harry was silent. It was clear he hadn't been expecting this. Perhaps he had even been anticipating only good to come of this day. He had obviously had it easy so far. But the world was violently catching back up with him. As it always did.

"Last night…while I was making love to my boyfriend and while you were sleeping through your shame…someone's little girl was murdered."

Floundering for words and feeling like he was suffocating on the stale, hostile air in the room, Harry staggered into a chair. "We really had it wrong," he managed between short gasps. " _I_  really had it wrong…and now…."

"And now we have to fix it," Draco finished for him. He took a slow drink from one of the coffee cups, his mind calming from the comforting taste and his heart racing from the surge of caffeine. "Fuel up. We have a long day ahead of us…."

This was a dark understatement. There wasn't enough coffee or scones in the world to make their job any easier.

In his years at the Ministry as an Auror, Harry hadn't dealt much with death. He had pointedly avoided it, feeling like he had most definitely earned the right to. So most of his cases involved robbery or domestic disputes. Small things.

So it had been a few years, especially after voluntarily assigning himself to desk duty, since he had seen a cold, dead body. Seeing one now, so small and still, had his stomach turning. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, but the most prominent was regretting such a rich breakfast. Feeling light-headed, he apologized and stepped back from the medical examiner. If he stared much longer at Martina's body on that table, he was likely to puke.

"You may want to look away for this next part, Mr. Potter, if you're feeling queasy," the medical examiner – a petite woman named Mel who looked well-past the age for retirement – warned before pulling the sheet down to expose the girl's chest. "On the outside, she looks unharmed. But when you take a look inside…." There was a sick, squelching noise as she peeled back the Y-cut flesh.

Harry shouldn't have looked.

"Are you going to faint?" Draco's voice was thin and lacking in patience. In a near-direct echo of the beginning of their third year at Hogwarts, his question gave Harry a squirmy feeling in his gut. Trying to push past the obvious judgment, he shook his head quickly and took a few more steps back.

The girl's insides looked like burnt soup. Harry could still see it ingrained into his retinas behind his eyelids. "It's the poison," Mel explained. "It targets the organs but leaves everything else perfectly pristine. On the outside, it looks like she might not have suffered at all. But, really…. It would have been slow and painful. And because the potion used also paralyses the body…."

"She just laid there dying and could do nothing about it." With a sigh, Draco grabbed the edge of the sheet and covered the body again. "Just like all of the others. Did you find anything different? Something that would suggest a different killer with a different motive?"

Mel shook her head. "I didn't get to examine any of the other bodies, but I have seen their reports. From those reports, I can confidently say that this is directly in-line with every single one of them. You're still looking for the same murderer, Mr. Malfoy."

It was good news, Draco was sure, but he couldn't help but to feel a flutter of panic. The examiner's words solidified their failure. "Any trace of magic?"

"Nothing but the potion, Mr. Malfoy."

"Thank you for your time, Mel."

The woman grinned and gently touched Draco's arm. "Anything for you, sweetheart. Now go get 'em."

"I'm trying to," Draco reassured her, himself, and Harry who was watching him with those big, green eyes.

Harry looked fragile again. It was easy to see, even just in the way he walked. He was holding himself close and tight, like he had to police every limb. Once this case was over, Draco never wanted to see him like this again. As much as he might think this was what the universe wanted for him, Harry Potter wasn't cut out to be an Auror. He had just been a boy caught up in the simple matter of circumstance.

"Where do we go from here?" Harry asked, his voice weak and almost fearful of what was to come. Like he was terrified that there was another bad thing lurking just around the corner.

Stopping at the lift, Draco shrugged and scrubbed fingers through his hair. He'd run them through so often by now that it was riddled with static. Obnoxious flyaways tickled at his forehead and every time he tried to tame them it only made them worse. In a fit of annoyance, he waved his wand to procure a tie around the blond strands. "I still think we should pay a visit to the Misuse of Magic Department. It's still our best lead, even if the targets aren't specifically Muggleborn children. We should go there next…."

With a nod, Harry followed him into the lift. He kept distance, sucking in air like he was desperate for it. His stomach was still churning and he was grateful Draco didn't suggest taking a break for lunch. "Had you, uh…. Had you seen that before? The effects of the potion?" he questioned, bracing his palms back against the wall.

"Only in pictures." Draco's voice was tight and controlled. He was also affected by the young girl's corpse, but was desperate not to show it. "This was the first body we had on our table. For all of the others, we only had the Muggle examinations to go off of. But it's all the same. The only difference is that we know what did this to her while they're all still baffled."

"We're baffled, too."

Their eyes met for a brief second. In that second, they shared a similar look. They were both scared out of their minds. They were in way over their heads. And the only thing that they could take solace in was convincing themselves that anyone would be. Or  _should_  be.

"Hey, Draco! You know, I saw a report come through last night from your address. Haven't had a chance yet to read it over. Is little Scorpius already presenting?"

The door labeled " _Underage Magic Surveillance_ " only contained a single office. And inside of that office was a gaunt-looking man who underneath the eye bags and sallow skin could have been very attractive. The office was dimly lit, containing only an L-shaped desk absolutely over-laden with papers on the right and several quills furiously scratching on various papers to the left. The man sat in the middle of it all, seemingly unharried and at home in the chaotic environment that had Harry's teeth on edge. The man eyed the two of them, obvious curiosity barely bridled.

"Not that I've noticed," Draco mused, leaning against the back of the door after closing it behind them. "And Shea didn't say anything. My cousin is staying with us and he's only eleven. He's heading off to his first year of school soon. It was probably just him. Besides, isn't Scorpius a bit young for that?"

"Nah, it's more normal than you think. Just last week I had to send Patrol out to investigate an infant who was hiccuping curses. Nothing too terrible, just some object transfiguration," the man rushed to add when he saw the alarm in Harry's eyes. "So, what brings you up to my office today? We didn't have lunch plans, did we?"

"No, I'm afraid I'm actually here for the job instead of as a friend today."

"Well…I'm afraid I don't know much about potions, Draco…."

Draco nodded, reaching out to gently touch Harry's arm. "We're working a case that unfortunately involves you, Jeremy…."

The man was on his feet in two-seconds flat. He wasn't even bothering to hide his curiosity in Harry's presence anymore. "The Sentinel did say you've been wandering around MACUSA lately…. Any truth to the nasty, little rumors?"

"'Fraid not." Harry smiled tightly and held up his left hand, wedding band glinting. "I'm still a happily married man."

"Shame," Jeremy muttered, his eye-contact jittery and intense. "I am currently single myself and…you certainly are better looking than your pictures suggest."

Harry cleared his throat and averted his eyes. "Sorry to hear that," he muttered awkwardly to the floor.

"Well, what is it that I can help with, then? And what does that have to do with the famous Harry Potter?"

"Potter is helping me with a case," Draco explained, pushing up off the wall to lean over Jeremy's desk. "A case where underage witches and wizards are being murdered. Most of them are Muggleborn. The only way we can see the victims being chosen…is off your records…. I need you to help me clear your name from the suspects list…."

Jeremy's eyes widened and he jumped up from his chair. "Excuse me?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. "You can't be seriously thinking I have anything to do with that…. Draco, we're friends. I've dated your boyfriend. You  _know_  I wouldn't…. I wouldn't do something like that. And, besides, my records are public. Anyone could have read them!"

"Anyone?" Harry questioned, also taking a step forward, awkwardness forgotten. "Where do you keep them?"

The absolute picture of flustered, Jeremy gestured to the left side of his desk where a quill had stopped its work. "When they're done being dictated, I read them and determine if action is needed. If not, they get sent down to the Archive Library. All non-confidential files end up there. Literally any witch or wizard can walk in and read anything that isn't protected. Once it leaves here…it's out of my hands…."

"Anyone…." Harry's whisper signified that the pitiful last shred of his hope was about to fall apart. They were assuredly back at square one if this was as broad as it seemed. It felt like harsh and real failure and it was suffocating.

Draco, however, wasn't as ready to give up and accept defeat. He was still hopeful. Harry wasn't so sure why he was recruited for this if Draco was more put-together than he was. "Is there any way to trace who accesses these reports?"

His eyes lit up with relief, Jeremy nodded emphatically. "All Archive files retain touch magic! You can track that. The Archivists can pull the information for you. I can send a memo ahead, if you want me to." He eagerly pulled out a piece of parchment and scratched a quick note.

"I'll still need you to give Deacon your alibis later, Jer," Draco said, his voice surprisingly soft. It was amazing that Harry could still be this thrown when Draco exhibited kindness to anyone else. "But, between us, I don't honestly think that you could have done what this killer does." He leaned further over the desk and gently pressed a kiss to Jeremy's cheek.

Harry opened the door and the newly transfigured memo rat scuttled off ahead of him down the hall. They followed along behind it, pace much less urgent and soon lost track of the thing. Beside him, Draco was silent but there were obvious gears turning behind his eyes. At least one of them could focus.

At least one of them wasn't utterly useless here.

"I should recuse myself," Harry muttered, letting his gaze fall to his feet. He was full of shame at even the thought of uttering those words. He wasn't even coming close to living up to his full potential whether he stayed on this case or not.

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco fired back without missing a single beat. He didn't even look over at Harry, like he wasn't even stunned by his attempt to bow out graciously. "Everyone botches something during their first big case. You're not all that special."

That secret smirk as they climbed into the lift again together said otherwise. But that was just between them. That was reserved for private, stolen moments exactly like this one. A moment all their own where Draco threaded his fingers through Harry's and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"We will solve this, Harry. Keep your chin up and trust your partner."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright...so I'm not even sure how I feel about the direction this chapter took. Full disclosure: I'm consuming a TON of hormones and they're fucking with my head. I'm nothing but fuzz and static. In addition to that, my depression is off the charts because my body just doesn't know how to be fertile, I guess. So, yeah, all of this was written under stress and duress and I am keeping it. I waited a few days to post to make sure I liked it and I think I'm finally convinced that I do.  
> That being said, I really hope you all enjoy. Please be sure to leave a comment with your thoughts, whatever they may be! Love you all.

 

Harry walked into the Archive Library wholeheartedly sure that they would come up empty-handed. Despite Draco's pep-talk, he still felt like they were doomed to lose here. This murderer was smart. He was tricky. He was switching up his patterns just as they had established that he had one.

But things rarely worked out the way Harry expected them to.

"The same gentleman pulled all of these reports," the archivist said with a pinched smile. "But of course I'll need to see a warrant before I give you his name…."

"Of course," Draco muttered and returned the smile with the same hint of disdain.

After an hour's wait and several pressing memos, they were walking out with a name. It wasn't much, but it was something to go off of. It was much more than Harry had expected to get. And it was something they could definitely launch from.

"Andrew McClain…. That sounds like such a normal fucking name," Draco muttered, staring at the access report.

"Not all parents know their son is going to grow up to be a villain. They can't all be named Scorpius Malfoy."

Draco's glare cut much shallower when matched with his amused smile. For that instant, they felt like what they used to be. They felt like the kind of pair that jokes and laughs to cut the tension. They didn't feel like people so far at odds they had to watch their words. "Says the guy who named his pit-bull after a crackpot headmaster."

"And an abusive potions master. It's a well-rounded shitty name." They were by no means in the midst of happy times. There hadn't been many smiles to go around between them in the last few years let alone the last few days. So that little curl of a smile brightening Harry's face certainly meant something. It was genuine. It was honest.

And Draco couldn't deny that it was beautiful. Not to mention distracting…. Now was certainly not the time to get distracted. Not in his office in the middle of a breakthrough in their case. Wiping his own smirk off his face with a literal scrub of his hand, he looked back at the report. "Deacon is gathering a Patrol team to go with us to talk to this guy. Once we have the warrant to search his home, we're cleared to go."

Harry nodded, feeling a very satisfying relief at that. "Think we'll see this guy behind bars today?"

"I hope so. I'm ready for this to be over and done with," Draco grumbled. He threw the paper across his desk, relaxing back in his chair. "I'm ready for things to return to normal."

"You know-"

A moment later, Deacon came into the office and gave them the go-ahead. Harry was going to remind Draco what things returning to normal really meant. But it wasn't the time any longer. It wasn't the time for a harsh reality check. That could come at the end of the day when they had accomplished something. When they were actually faced with that impending reality slamming back in on them.

When his leaving at the end of all of this was too late to stop.

Andrew McClain lived in a normal house in a normal suburb in the inconspicuous state of Maine. He had roses planted by his mailbox and kept his grass well-cut. His house was an unobtrusive blue and there was a dependable four-door sedan in the driveway. Nothing was amiss about any of it.

"Are we sure this is the right address?" Harry questioned, eyeing the less-kempt lawn of the house across the street.

"This is his registered address," Draco shrugged. He bravely stepped up to the front door and hammered loudly upon it.

The man didn't take long to answer and when he did he seemed absolutely unfazed. The presence of four men on his front porch didn't seem to bother him one bit. Not even when he visibly looked over the two in law enforcement uniforms. "Can I help you?" he asked coolly.

Draco pulled the warrant from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. "Andrew McClain?" he asked, holding the paper out towards the stranger.

"Drew," he corrected and very gently took the warrant. He was a short and stout man with a terribly unattractive mouse-colored comb-over. His eyes were dark and hard to read. But over all, his appearance in a polo shirt and khakis didn't set off any alarms. "Are you here to arrest me?"

In Harry's experience, innocent men didn't ask that question. "Depends on how you answer a few questions," he said with a sickly sweet smile. "That warrant you're holding covers a search of your home and premises done by these two MACUSA officers behind me. I'm Investigator Malfoy and this is Auror Potter. Would you like to let us in?"

He was waiting for this man, Drew, to shift. To change. He was waiting for his demeanor to become violent and less carefree. But he kept a too calm expression and merely stepped back from the door, waving them in. "I've just brewed a pot of coffee, would any of you like some?"

Harry shook his head slowly and snuck a look at Draco. He also looked rather unperturbed. Cool, calm, and collected. An absolute cliché. "No, thank you. Do you live alone, Mr. McClain?" Draco asked, his voice just as steady as he looked.

The inside of the house was just as cozy and well-maintained. Nothing immediately screamed 'murderer'. If anything, the floral upholstery and sensible cream-colored walls screamed 'boring'. The Patrol officers had set to their task of tearing everything apart, but Harry had a sneaking suspicion they wouldn't find anything.

"Yes. I haven't found the right woman quite yet." Drew cracked an easy smile and moved towards the kitchen. "Is that why you're here? Is it suddenly a crime to be a single, middle-aged man?"

Draco followed, ignoring the jab. "We have records of you accessing Underage Magic Reports at MACUSA Headquarters. Would you like to explain why you're pulling these reports?"

Seeming genuinely confused, Drew picked up a mug of coffee and took a slow, deep drink. He looked Draco over first and then Harry, his eyes beady and calculating. "I work for Ilvermorny. The reports were pertinent to my job."

"And what is it you do for the school, exactly?" Harry cut in.

"Consulting. Magical ability consulting. In a nutshell, I determine which children have enough magic in their veins to be trained. Not all presenting children turn into wizards, you know."

Harry hadn't known. He had just assumed if a child had magic, they were considered a wizard. With a frown, he looked over at Draco. It was a perfectly valid reason. There would be no need to question his intentions there. Maybe they had the wrong man….

"So some kids just don't…make the cut?"

Drew flinched at Draco's question. A telling flinch that poked a hole in Harry's doubt. A hole just wide enough for a glimmer of surety to shine through. Even though any person might start at the crude way Draco had phrased his question. "That's quite a violent way of putting it…."

"No," Draco stated, surveying the contents of the kitchen cabinets. "Murder would be a violent way of putting it."

Once again, Drew flinched. Minimally. So small that Harry questioned whether it happened at all. Perhaps it was just his glimmer of hope playing tricks on him. "Murder? Is that why you're here? Are you going to arrest me for murder?"

Draco shrugged. "Should we?" he asked, a sly grin on his lips.

Drew returned that smile, his housing an oily feel, and leaned back against a countertop. "Don't you have to have proof?  _Evidence_?"

An unsettling chill ran down Harry's spine.

"Don't worry; we will find some."

The words echoed in Harry's mind. He frowned, closing his eyes to the pin-pricks of darkness clouding his vision.

" _Don't worry-"_

Harry  _was_  worried.

" _-we will find some."_

They weren't going to find _anything_.

"Not if there's nothing to find."

Drew's voice was even more unsettling in the dark. Without meaning to, Harry took a quick step away from the sound.

This all felt too real. Surreal. It felt like a bad memory brought back to life. The pressure and fear of failure from his teenage years suddenly felt  _real_  again. Like lives were on the line and he just didn't know how to save them. He was dizzy, like he really  _could_  faint this time.

"Malfoy…."

"Why don't you go help the officers with the search of the basement, Potter? I want to make sure we go over every inch of this place."

"Draco…."

"Not that we don't believe you Mr. McClain, but…well, we really don't."

" _Draco_."

The black behind Harry's lids darkened further, if that were possible. Like all connection to the world was suddenly and violently severed. He had no idea what he stumbled back into, but it felt solid and he embraced that. Everything else was spinning and the reassurance of it was grounding.

That darkness was comforting at first. It was filled with Draco's voice. Both distant and familiarly close. Whispers and shouts and every breathless word he had ever coaxed out. And the loudest of them all were the ones that had so violently unsettled him in the first place.

" _I want to go back and change it all. I just want to go back…."_

It all played out like a bad movie in Harry's unconscious. Black and white and fuzzy. The strangled bliss of their life together. The simpler times before all of this. The weightless in-between when they were both still adjusting. Figuring out who they were supposed to be. Figuring out who they  _wanted_  to be. Before the mess and chaos returned. Before the world caught back up with Harry and reminded him he wasn't meant to have an easy life.

Night walks, hand in hand, spent desperately trying to recover from cold sweats and bad dreams. Intimate moments where they worshiped one another's scars – fraught with guilt. Wasted afternoons with Teddy at the park or in Diagon Alley full of giggles and sweet indulgence. Memories Harry held close in private moments, all on display at the most inconvenient of moments.

And then…the memories quit so abruptly he felt like he was gasping for breath.

The word was stark black again. And then clinically white. Vividly bright. Harry blinked, lip curling at the offense. For a brief moment, there was a pale blue haze surrounding him but it disappeared like thin smoke a moment later. The world had a blurry texture to it and there was the obvious missing pressure of his glasses upon the bridge of his nose. Everything around him seemed wrong. Just slightly off. He didn't recognize the tiled ceiling above him nor the scratch of the sheets beneath his hands.

"You're awake."

Harry would recognize Draco's voice absolutely anywhere. Even when he didn't know where he was, that voice still reminded him of home. A bright green haze buzzed against Harry's skin a moment later. Pulsing in time with every too-loud heartbeat in his ears. Desperate for answers, he sat up quickly and tried to shake off the unfamiliar magic.

"Calm down. They're just using it to track your vitals," Draco cautioned to Harry's right. His hand was placed just-so on the thin mattress, like perhaps just a moment previous it had just been holding Harry's own.

Sure enough, the louder Harry's heart beat in his ears, the closer the green haze inched towards yellow. Once it reached a disconcerting shade of burnt orange, a concerned-looking woman was at Harry's other side. "Mr. Potter, I need you to calm down. Can you take deep breaths for me? Do you know where you are?"

While pulling in long and slow breaths, Harry took in his surroundings as best he could. It was all still blurry and unrecognizable but he did know he was on something akin to a gurney and that this woman was dressed like a nurse. Like a Healer, maybe. "Am I in a hospital?" he asked softly, his throat sore and dry. It felt like he had been screaming himself raw.

The woman smiled easily and nodded. "Apparently you may have passed out. You hit your head, too. But you'll be okay. You only lost a little blood." She pulled a wand from her hip and cast a few, silent charms. The haze pulsed a few times, mostly staying closer to a bright green, only shifting orange a couple of times. "You're dehydrated and your blood sugar is low. It's likely why you took your spill. I'll order up some dinner for you as well as something to manage your pain. In the meantime…." She turned and poured a glass of water which she gently tucked into Harry's hand. "Drink up and keep resting. My name is Poppy and I'm your nurse. If you need anything, go ahead and give a shout. The warding on the room with alert me." With nothing but kindness, Poppy gently squeezed Harry's arm before gliding out of his view.

Harry didn't remember fainting. But he supposed that would explain why everything went black. And hitting his head must have been what gave him the pounding headache. Groaning, he relaxed back into the crisp pillows and winced at the painful pressure to the wound at the back of his head. "Do you have my glasses?" he asked, his voice quiet and full of embarrassment.

A moment later, the hospital room around him focused into view. Everything was white and clean – a harsh reminder of his situation. Draco was nestling back into a chair at his bedside, his hair down and an absolute mess like he'd raked his fingers through it too many times. He also looked absolutely exhausted. Like maybe he had been worrying. Somewhere in a distracted recess of his mind, Harry felt an inkling of satisfaction. It always seemed like a celebratory feat to put this man into such disarray.

Across the room on the table sat a stunning flower arrangement. Harry's lip quirked briefly into a smile. "How long was I out?"

Draco shrugged and bit back a yawn. "About five hours, maybe. Those are from Shea, by the way. He told me to get you the biggest one in the gift shop."

Frowning, Harry mimicked the tired action. "Is Teddy here? Or is he still with Shea?"

"Actually…." Underneath his practiced composure, Draco looked guilty. A look Harry had trained himself to recognize back when the man was always on the cusp of leaving. "He was here for a bit. But your brother-in-law - uh, the one Greyback mauled…Bill? – came for him not long ago." Harry opened his mouth, face contorted with confused anger to question but was gently cut off. "I had sent an owl to your husband. Apparently he's busy with work and sent Bill in his stead. So he's at home - your home – waiting for you.

"And before you get upset with  _me_ , I tried to keep him here. He wanted to stay here. He was…throwing a  _tantrum_  when he left. But your husband was insistent. So…I'm sorry."

Charlie had been upset about this trip to America from the start. Of course it would make sense he would jump at any chance to take Teddy away from it. Away from Draco. And, apparently, away from Harry. "I'm not upset with you," Harry reassured between desperate gulps of water. "This isn't really how I want him to see me, anyway. Does he know I passed out?"

"Of course he does." Draco smirked. He was slowly returning to himself. Or…the mask he presented as himself. "The Healer said you weren't eating enough. Teddy and I agree that you fainted because you skipped dinner the last couple nights."

The monitoring haze shifted yellow briefly when Draco winked. Harry felt his heart rate rise and blushed a dark red when he realized he couldn't hide the way Draco affected him. "Uh…hey, you were able to arrest McClain, right" he asked quickly to change the subject.

"No. The search turned up nothing and we had no substantial charges to hold him on." In an instant, Draco looked worn down again. A hollow shell with cracks threating its stability. "We have a team of Hit Wizards following him, though. I have a feeling about him…."

"Me, too," Harry whispered. That haunting chill ran down his spine again and he reached to refill his glass to cover the shiver. "I think I panicked. I think that's what sent me over the edge. Why I passed out…."

Very gently and with ghost-like pressure, Draco squeezed Harry's free hand. "I know…." His words were soft and dripping with the foreshadow of regret. "Harry...I talked to Deacon. And to Granger. He's decided to dismiss you from the case, after all. And she said the Ministry has advised putting you on a leave of absence. They're worried you might be spinning out-"

"And why would they be worried about that?" Harry snapped. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Like something vital to him was being taken away. Again that monitoring haze shifted orange, inching towards red with every gasp he pulled.

" _Breathe_." Harry sucked breaths in a little slower at Draco's firm suggestion. "Granger obviously has your best interests in mind. But she has to think about the Auror Department, as well. This little panic attack that sent you here? That's not stable. And we need you stable."

Draco said 'we' like he had a say in any of this. Like he hadn't run all those years ago. Like he had remained loyal by Harry's side all this time. He said it so casually as if it merely rolled off his tongue. Absolutely natural. Absolutely  _wrong_.

"When the hospital releases you, you'll be headed back home. Back to your perfect husband and your amazing godson and your beautiful little home in the country. And I'll stay here and solve this case. It was wrong of me to bring you into this in the first place. It was selfish. I mean…you helped; I can't deny that. But this isn't your place. Your place…isn't at my side. Your place – the one you deserve after everything you've done for our world – is peaceful and full of paperwork. As  _boring_  as that sounds, it's a peace you've earned. I shouldn't have tried to take you away from it."

Harry had a feeling Draco's words were well thought out and probably rehearsed. They sounded like a bad break-up speech. And maybe that's what they were. Maybe Draco was ending their affair as well as sending him back to England. Maybe he just couldn't bring himself to say so. Not just yet.

It was probably coming any moment now.

"I'm so sorry, darling, I was only just now able to get away."

Harry jumped, trying to surreptitiously loosen his fingers from Draco's before Charlie took notice. "It's okay," he muttered after clearing the emotional clog from his throat. "I only just woke up. Did you bring Teddy with you?"

"No. He's still at home with Bill. But I've been assured you'll be released in a couple of hours. You'll be with him again soon." Charlie strode into the room with a small bouquet of wilting flowers and made for the left side of Harry's bed. Harry's gaze flicked again to Shea's elaborate floral offering. He wasn't sure why the difference soured his stomach. "You can leave now," Charlie practically hissed at Draco and made a show of leaning down to sweetly kiss his husband's forehead.

The heat and anger radiating off of Draco was palpable. And Charlie seemed rather smug about that. "Take care of yourself, Potter," Draco managed through gritted teeth. He didn't even try to conceal the gentle lingering of his fingertips upon Harry's as anything innocent. "Owl me when you're feeling better. I would like to try to see my cousin again before he leaves for school."

Harry nodded, a silent promise. Watching Draco leave felt like an all new ending. It felt like the sands of time were slipping right through his fingers again. He was helpless to try and stop it. They were mere slaves to the hands of fate. He had tried to change their paths by coming to America. By inserting himself into a situation he couldn't handle just to try and chase something no longer in his reach. And, as it always did, everything backfired. Dramatically. Violently. Tragically.

They were always ending, he and Draco. Ending and restarting in a predictable cycle of simultaneous abuse. Never quite connecting on the same plane at the same time. Never quite able to get it right when it mattered most.

And that moment, the image of Draco's impossibly blonde hair disappearing around the corner burned into his mind, felt like one to top that list of missed opportunities at true happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to add, the end of this chapter feels like a finish but it isn't. I assure you I am not yet done. Definitely stay tuned for more!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance... But I've softened the thing I'm apologizing for with some smut! Would love to hear some reviews on this chapter - please don't be afraid to say whatever you're thinking!
> 
> (Also, long story short, I posted this chapter when AO3 was having issues Sunday. Took it down and reposted it this morning.)

 

Home just didn't feel like home any longer. Harry wasn't quite sure what had replaced it or if it ever even  _had_  in the first place. He would certainly be lying if he said he didn't often think fondly on his little apartment. He had built three different lives there at three different turning points. His life with Teddy – raising a sweet little boy even though he knew nothing about doing so. His life with Draco – the first real love he had allowed himself to have. And his life with Charlie – something stable and expected of him.

Which is where he still was. Comfortable and catering to the wills of the world.

But not all that happy.

It would definitely be unfair to say that Charlie made him  _un_ happy. He was too good of a man to both Harry and Teddy to be labeled with such a harsh accusation. He hadn't done anything wrong. Very simply, Charlie just might not have been the one.

Very simply, he wasn't Draco.

"Well, he took it," Charlie sighed and stopped before his side of their bed. "But he's still just… _laying_  there. Moping and picking at crumbs. At least he's eating, I guess. Even if it's just tea and biscuits…."

It took an incredible amount of concentration for Harry to bring his head back to the current situation. To stop his internal moping for just one moment. To stop being so damn selfish. "I'm sure he just misses Draco," he muttered while picking at his own biscuit. He was also feeling that ache. But not nearly as much as his godson who hadn't left his bedroom since Harry had arrived home that afternoon. "He was so happy to be there…. He'll come around. I think we just have to give him some time."

Although he didn't appear to agree, Charlie nodded. But he did make sure to add his piece, just in case Harry didn't know. "I still think it was a mistake for you to have gone there in the first place."

Charlie had stated this fact several times since arriving at the hospital. Harry already knew how he felt. He knew it like the grating sound of a broken record. Every time he said it, Harry felt his stomach turn and flip. An uneasy queasiness he swallowed down with a dismissing shake of his head.

"You know, I've been thinking," Charlie continued. "I, uh…. I think I'm going to quit the sanctuary. Come home.  _Stay_  home."

It was, of course, wrong to do so, but Harry couldn't hold back the startled frown. "You're sure?" Not once since they had started dating had Charlie even mentioned the possibility of leaving Romania. Harry had never felt it was fair to ask him to, either. And yet, here he was, ready and willing to drop the thing he was most passionate about. Most likely for Harry specifically. And for them as a couple. And for them as a family. It was laudable, as much as it soured his stomach.

Charlie being home for good meant no more stolen weekends. No sneaking around in complete comfort. No more lazy afternoons of Draco sprawled out in his bed, begging to be fucked.

Just Charlie.

And not even all of Charlie.

If he had all of Charlie, he rationalized, he wouldn't need Draco. If he could get what he needed at home from his husband, he could forget about his first love. It was complete bullshit and the oldest excuse for cheating in the book, but he still used it as valid justification.

"I want to be here for you."

Harry held back a cringe and kept his eyes firmly trained on the duvet.

"Isn't that something you want, too?"

'No' was on the tip of his tongue. He only just barely held it back in favor of a stilted head bob.

What Harry wanted deep down in a part of himself he rarely acknowledged was to run away. He wanted to do what Draco did – run and never look back. He wanted to start over and remake himself away from expectant eyes. He wanted to live in a happy little blissful world surround by nothing but love. Doing a job he loved and living a life he could be satisfied in.

Harry felt a pressure at his side. The mattress dipped and Charlie settled in beside him. Close. Almost uncomfortably close. Harry felt like his skin was prickling at the contact. His body was screaming his denial for him, even if he wasn't sure if he truly wanted to push his husband away.

He loved Charlie.

He  _wanted_  Charlie.

He wanted Charlie to there and to be his in every single way he craved.

"Harry, look at me."

So slowly it was almost painful, Harry raised his eyes to meet Charlie's sea of calming blue. He couldn't help the smile pulling at his lips in response. He couldn't help but to feel safe and content. All of the warring fears and desires inside his head washing away like a receding tide.

Charlie  _was_  his fresh start. It was selfish to think otherwise. It was  _wrong_  to think otherwise. What he had in the past was just that. And it needed to stay there. As much as he had loved the last few days with Draco in his little escape world…. This was his home. And he couldn't leave that. He couldn't leave this man. Someone who cared about him and their child so unconditionally….

"I want to be what you want."

Pushing all (it most) thoughts of Draco and a different reality from his mind, Harry set aside his plate and teacup. He didn't say a single word, not trusting his voice. Instead, he sat up and settled even closer into Charlie's side. Resting his cheek on Charlie's shoulder and pressing his lips to his neck. Just once.

"I want to be all you need."

"I  _need_ …all of you, Charlie. I need you…."

Charlie's lips were soft in Harry's hair. Soft and kind and just so typically  _him_  that it hurt. Harry ached for more. For a heavier touch and a rougher kiss. If anything could make his doubts go away, it was this man he loved so dearly.

The hesitation was clear in every single stiffening muscle of Charlie's body. He sat upright, as well, but for an entirely different purpose. Slowly, like he thought Harry couldn't feel it, he shifted in the opposite direction. "You have everything I can give you, darling. And I'm trying desperately to work on the rest."

"Maybe we could work on it now…." Harry's suggestion was far less than subtle. He was all but throwing himself at his husband. But subtly with Charlie would get him nowhere. It was almost humiliating how upfront he had to be with his husband when making advances.

Charlie's response was just as typical as it ever was. "Right now…I just want to lie here with you." A blatant try at steering them in the opposite direction.

There was an inkling of guilt in Harry's stomach when he continued. He didn't want to pressure Charlie in any way to do something he wasn't comfortable with, but he had been the one to say he wanted to try harder…. Unless this wasn't something he had intended in that promise. "Charlie," Harry said, his voice so quiet he wasn't even sure if he really had voiced the name aloud, "I am literally begging you to fuck me. Please…just tell me 'no'. Don't dance around your rejection. I can't handle that game tonight…."

Really, Harry was expecting Charlie to run away. He was expecting the response he always got. The hasty apology and the retreat. It was just the response he had come to expect in the last four years of their marriage. It was predictable like the rising of the sun each day. It just was what it was and he was already ready for it.

He most certainly wasn't ready for what actually happened. Charlie's entire countenance shifting after a long, steeling breath inward. His strong arms maneuvering Harry like it was nothing. Like he was weightless. Like they had practised this move a thousand times. In the astonished blink of the eye, Harry was straddling Charlie's legs and he was pulled into the deepest kiss this man had ever given him.

The response was instantaneous. With the permission, and without a single thought to question it, Harry hummed a noise of satisfaction and caved to the heat between them. He rutted in closer, his fingers eagerly exploring. On a normal day, it almost felt forbidden to touch his husband like this. To linger his fingers so intimately over his skin. To savor the scratch of his beard or the taste of his tongue. To revel in the matched heat between them and make sinful noises in response.

His fingers carved unlearned paths into Charlie's muscles. Desperately trying to memorize the shape and swell of each stretch of skin at his disposal. A stark contrast to the way Charlie's hands merely settled onto Harry's hips. Holding him there with a limp, unsure grip. Like he still reserved the right to flee at any moment. "Relax," Harry whispered against his lips with a gentle, chiding nip.

Charlie nodded, a shuddery motion that absolutely reeked of unbearable nerves. "I'm okay," he muttered back and rolled his hips up to meet Harry's desperate grinding to accentuate his point.

He was okay, but he wasn't himself. Not really. Generally, Charlie was a confident man. But not usually when it came to things like this. The few times they had made love, it didn't feel anything like this. It felt unsure and tentative, like Charlie wasn't really in it. He was going through the motions but not really  _feeling_  them. Not like this. This time saw him as an active participant. His hands were shaking, but he did slip them under Harry's nightshirt. He did reciprocate the desire to map out his lover's body. Whether that was a true desire or skilled acting, Harry wasn't entirely certain. But he didn't want to know. He just continued to run the warning not to question through his mind every other second.

"Can you reach your wand?" Harry asked, gasping for breath a few minutes later. He felt punch-drunk, a thrill akin to the start of a new relationship. Every sensation felt new and passionate.

Charlie nodded and broke contact for just a moment to stretch over to the nightstand. Grinning, Harry ghosted his fingers over the taut muscle at his expense. For the first time in the six odd years of being together, he felt truly grateful that his husband slept in nothing more than his boxer briefs. And in the same thought he very much cursed his pyjamas. There were all too many layers between them.

In an awkward, overwhelmed fit, Harry struggled to pull away from Charlie. "Sorry, one moment," he muttered and worked at the knot tying his joggers. The infernal knot that his fingers – trembling with anticipation – just couldn't seem to manage.

Under his fingers, the knot loosened by itself. Harry looked up to see Charlie, wearing a shit-eating grin with his wand held aloft. "Maybe you're the one who needs to relax?"

Harry rolled his eyes and held back an overexcited laugh. Instead, he quickly stripped himself of all his clothing and climbed quickly back into bed. Settling right back into where he had been a moment ago. Those eager fingers plunging into Charlie's thick hairline and savoring the soft moan he pulled in response. "If I give you the spells, can you perform them?"

The words were barely out of his mouth before Harry felt the uncomfortable familiarity of the cleansing spell and the lubrication charm slicking both his entrance and his cock. "I can manage, darling," Charlie chuckled and pressed his lips to Harry's forehead.

Apparently Charlie had done some research. Enough that he could perform the spells nonverbally. For just a flickering moment, Harry had to wonder just how planned out this tryst was. But only a moment since be found he couldn't much care with this man's fingers bravely coaxing him to life. He muttered a guttural obscenity, shifting up into the touch.

"Good?"

With an accompanying grin, Harry managed a breathy "Yeah". It was so much more than 'good'. It was different from Draco in all the right ways. It was gentle and felt somehow forbidden. It was both of them at their most vulnerable. It was both of them unsure and slightly scared and yet unbelievably thrilled.

It felt like Harry needed to take advantage of every single sensation because who knew when he would feel them this way again.

"Shift up a bit," Charlie whispered in Harry's ear as he gave up and let his forehead collide with the man's collarbone. Eager to obey, Harry did just as he was told and settled more weight to his knees. A moment later the pressure agonizingly disappeared from his cock. He made to protest but found the thought strangled when a slick digit breached his hole. He mewled in response and slung his arms around Charlie's neck. He used this leverage to give his husband better access while practically begging him to continue without actually being able to find the words.

To give him more.

To fill him in the way he so desperately craved.

In the past, Harry had took pity on Charlie and used magic to prep himself. He was, in that moment, cursing himself for ever having done so. For ever cheating himself of the sensation of being so lovingly worked open. At those surprisingly skilled hands, it didn't take long for Harry to be grunting for even  _more_. For the real thing.

His fingers were in Charlie's waistband. He was genuinely surprised to find a positive bodily reaction under him. A need just as visible as his own straining at the thin fabric. "Can I?" he whispered, a part of him still waiting for the rejection. Still sure it was coming any second before he was allowed to fully enjoy this.

But Charlie still didn't deny him then. He pressed a comforting kiss to Harry's temple and gave his answer wordlessly by drawing a fingertip over Harry's prostate. After the stars cleared from his eyes, Harry eagerly took what was his. He awkwardly shimmied Charlie's briefs down and lifted himself a bit higher. On cue, Charlie waved his wand one last time before setting it aside. His newly freed cock was now covered in cold lube. As he settled up against Harry's entrance, the contrast in sensations sent an excited shiver up Harry's spine.

Nothing compared to that moment. Nothing came close to how Harry felt with Charlie filling him so full she couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't say a damn thing but to repeat his approval over and over and over….

He slowly lifted off of Charlie, almost to the point of losing him completely, before sinking just as agonizingly slow back down onto his length. "Oh, gods…."

Charlie's lips were locked with Harry's, mumbling questions in between every tentative fuck and lingering kiss. Inquiring about their happiness. About Harry's happiness. The name 'Draco Malfoy' lingering just below each word as a standard to live up to. Every different way he asked had Harry more and more sure that his husband knew about the affair. About the stolen weekends and the way Harry was slowly being torn apart after the last few days.

"I just need to know that I make you happy…."

Every word out of his husband's mouth unburied Harry's hidden feelings. They were so close to being completely out in the open. To try and keep some sort of handle on himself, he haphazardly settled a few fingers over Charlie's lips. "Shh," he hissed just as a well-timed, wayward thrust hit that sweet spot and wrung a strangled shout straight from his lungs. If he were more coherent, he would have questioned whether Charlie had remembered to cast a  _muffliato._

"You shush," Charlie chuckled, the familiar hollowness sinking back into his tone. He wore a small smile beneath Harry's fingers but it too lacked depth. He peppered almost forlorn kisses to the skin and picked up the pace of his rutting. "I just…. I just want to be the one that completes you."

Harry was feeling pretty fucking complete. He felt whole and full and perfect. He was content, he was happy, he was right on the brink of completion in more ways than he could name.

"You do. You do…. J-just a little, uhn, faster, Charlie…I'm so close. Let me come for you. Let me show you…."

It didn't last long enough. What they had never did. They were always chasing after new moments like this before the old ones had even begun. Always chasing….

Once Charlie picked up the pace, Harry was tipping right over that peak. His orgasm was loud and on the cusp of violent. Charlie pulled him into another kiss to silence his careless moans. The taste of him matched with how high Harry felt was a memory he was never likely to forget. If they never did this again…in that moment he felt he could die happy.

Draco Malfoy, who?

"I feel like you're looking for an excuse to leave me…and I don't want to give you one. I don't want to be the one to make up your mind…."

Charlie's words echoed in Harry's lust-blown mind. They were all he could feel even as the other shook with his own, subdued climax beneath him. And they were all he could hear against the backdrop of the night.

Even with the muffled scream piercing the silence of their house.

" _-make up your mind…."_

Even with the chaos of the dogs barking and scratching at the bedroom door.

" _-make up your mind…."_

Even with the bumps and startling raucous from the next room over.

" _-make up your mind…."_

Even with the blood pounding in his ears as he tried to rush out of bed.

" _-make up your mind…."_

Even with the panic stilling his swift-beating heart….

" _-make up your mind…."_

Even with that one solid  _thunk_ bringing every single fear he'd ever had for his godson to sudden and vivid life.

" _-make up your mind…."_

"Teddy?!"


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter absolutely kicked my ass.... I have most of what happens next already planned out but this was severely getting in the way. But it's done now! Please be sure to leave a comment with what you thought of this chapter! Love you all!

 

Harry's path home was paved with a thick layer of lies. There was a permanent oily feeling in Draco's stomach at just the thought. It was his fault – his lies – and that made it all the worse.

Draco had enacted a plan and it wasn't exactly a fair one.

It started with a well-timed, secret spell. It started with Harry falling into darkness. It started with a fair bit of blood shed at Draco's own hand. It started with a small sacrifice and a much larger personal one.

It started with and banked upon Harry leaving and that, by far, wasn't the worst part but it sure felt that way. Not only because Draco now had to finish this case out on his own, but also because he was going to miss the presence of that man at his side again. It would be foolish of him to deny the violent feelings waging wars within him about that confusing subject.

Mostly, the guilt in Draco's gut could be traced back to one big thing in particular – Teddy.

What he was doing to the boy wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And it might very well come back to bite them all in the ass later. He was already hurting. They had yet to figure out why. Shea, through a mess of regretful tears, had lamented about failing him. And the anguish on his face when he was dragged back home…. No stable child wore a look so heartbreaking. No stable child looked at a relative with that kind of torment in their eyes….

But Draco had no standing. Charlie had insisted he go with his brother. There was nothing Draco could do to stop it. After this whole mess was over, he vowed to make it right where he could. Not that promising this to himself softened the deep ache in his heart.

This plan of his only made it worse, as well.

They had, indeed, found nothing at Andrew McClain's home. His reason for pulling the records was completely valid and verified. He had no record. No one had a single ill thing to say about him. By all perceptible standards, he was a model citizen.

Except…McClain had a plan, too. Draco was so sure of it, even with little to no evidence. Otherwise, why would he have pulled a report with Teddy's name on it? And  _his_  plan was to use  _that_  plan against him.

By putting Teddy into direct harm's way.

Teddy was going to be the bait.

He didn't even know how nervous he should be. He was just lying there in his bed, unmoving. Lifeless and without caution. If anything, he looked relaxed. At ease. Comfortable and safe.

Just after Harry had arrived home with his husband, Draco broke into the house. It was by pure coincidence that they arrived at the same time. He had intended to get there before them. To take what he needed and be ready for what was to come. He knew all of his ex's wards and how to disable them. For this plan of his, all defenses needed to be down. The slightly paranoid, cautionary behavior so typical of Harry wouldn't help them catch this guy. Neither would Draco standing out in open sight just outside. Which was why he needed to break in. He needed that invisibility cloak. And he knew just where Harry kept that, too. Locked away in his school trunk next to everything else he tried desperately to forget.

Draco shifted in the bushes outside of Teddy's window. He'd been there for hours. The scent of fresh rain was in the air and the ground was wet beneath his knees. It felt like summers in Wiltshire, sitting in the rain-soaked garden. The smell of wet dirt and pungent lavender. An hour ago, he had thought about spelling the ground dry but never felt right doing so. The small discomfort felt like home. And that discomfort was something he deserved.

The brunt of his well-deserved punishment and discomfort floated through the open master bedroom window. The noises were…vivid, to say the least. Harry was moaning and groaning and swearing on half-breaths. There was a swiftly-growing pit of jealousy in Draco's stomach. Harry was muttering his thanks to the gods and begging for more. He was mewling and grunting his praise. His voice was as Draco had never heard it – so vulnerable and soft. So broken. A mess of pieces he had never witnessed.

A mess he would likely never get out of his head.

Of course, Draco had not a single right to be jealous. He didn't have a right to sit here and listen in on this intimate moment between a 'happily married' couple. Harry had made it very clear time and time again that this was the life he wanted. That he was  _happy_. And Draco had his own little family to keep himself content. They had separate lives.

So why was there that nagging feeling still in Draco's gut? Why couldn't he get it to clear?

The obscene sounds were so distracting…. Draco was so distracted. And he wasn't paying attention. His eyes were watering and he just couldn't  _focus_. He was supposed to be watching Teddy but he just could. Not. Concentrate.

Even just a second too late here could mean permanently too late.

Draco's first thought had been to hide in Teddy's closet. It was closer and gave easier access. And he wasn't really looking forward to shimmying through the window, if the need arose. But he had been so sure the killer's entry was going to be at this window. He was so sure he could stop this before it even happened. Per usual, Draco was confident and cocky and that would likely be his downfall.

As well as the thought of a vulnerable and pleading Harry Potter taking over his every thought.

"Fuck," he whispered, retraining his eyes on the window. Blinking away the moisture clouding his vision.

Except it didn't appear to just be the moisture. There was a shadowy figure in the room. Close to the bed. Close enough to make Draco regret every single decision he'd made in the last few hours. Close enough to lay his hands upon what Draco had vowed to protect.

" _Fuck_." He was on his feet in an instant, a bundle of panicked energy. Not bothering with the mess of the window, he apparated directly into Teddy's room. Right behind the dark figure. At some point the invisibility cloak had slipped off Draco's back and now he was fully exposed. Had the cloak stayed on, he would have at least been able to remain in anonymity for a bit longer. It covered down to his knee caps when standing.

The man in front of him definitely had the advantage, especially with the telling  _pop_  of Draco's entrance. And he had, undoubtedly, planned better. His disillusion charm was working…well, like a charm. Draco could barely see the darkened outline of him against the backdrop of the room. Through him he could see Teddy, finally asleep flat on his back. Open and vulnerable with his jaw slacked as he softly snored.

"Malfoy…how interesting."

It was unmistakably Andrew McClain's voice. Soft and cool. Unshaken. Unfazed.

"Step. Back." Draco's own tone was the epitome of nervous. It wavered, betraying his fear. His slight lack of confidence. All he could see, almost literally, was the unstoppered vial between the man's translucent fingers.

Although Draco couldn't see it, he was sure McClain was smiling. There was the deep timbre of just one, soft scoff echoing in the still air. "I have to carry on with my mission. I had hoped you would understand that…."

Before Draco could hope to question what the man meant, the shadow was moving. In the blink of an eye, he had Teddy's arm in a vice-grip and yanked him out of bed. The boy gave a startled scream through the hand over his mouth. His eyes were wide as saucers and he was scrambling for purchase. For a way out.

Just outside the door, dogs were barking and clawing at wood. Draco refused to take his eyes off the scared look burned into his retinas. Or the vial of poison held like a looming threat, inching closer and closer to Teddy's lips. His wand danced between his fingers, ready to strike. But he couldn't act rashly without putting Teddy into further danger. They were stuck in this uncomfortable limbo until McClain chose to act.

And act he did….

Just as his charm started to fade, a sickly grin graced McClain's lips. His gaze landed on the faded outline of Draco's Dark Mark. Admiring it like it was something to be worshipped. Like it was something to be envied. "You of all people should understand," he said and it took everything Draco had not to cover the Mark in shame. McClain's hand tipped just enough for the serene blue liquid to trickle out, strongly punctuating his too loud thoughts.

Too many thoughts ran through Draco's own mind in the span of that same dangerous second. The fear of causing the end to an innocent life. Of  _losing_  something he just barely had and absolutely cherished. The anger undoubtedly coming from Harry once he heard the noise they were making and busted in. Losing Harry for real and for good if things went as badly as they could. And where would that leave Draco? The weight of death again heavy on his hands. Alone. Most assuredly isolating himself and making terrible choices. Again.

This one moment could cause him to lose everything. It could be the turning point back to where destiny apparently fated him to be. It could be the end of this half-life he'd come to cherish.

The deed was already being done. The potion – the  _poison_  – was already too close to, and perhaps even past, Teddy's lips. Draco would be lying if he didn't acknowledge that the first words on the tip of his tongue were  _"Avada Kedavra"_. But that was as far as they went. As much as he felt them and wanted to see this man dead, he couldn't force them past his teeth. That curse didn't bring closure. It brought swift and irreversible revenge. All of the grieving parents deserved much more than that.

 _Draco_  deserved much more than that. He deserved more than to fall prey to the person he had almost become.

In his current position, McClain was helpless to defend himself against the binding spell Draco threw at him with such vengeance. He fell to the floor like a lifeless lump, still wearing that eerie grin. His body gave a loud, resounding thunk that the men in the next room undoubtedly heard. They would likely barge in at any second. They would barge in and see this mess Draco had thrust upon them.

Someone shouted Teddy's name. It sounded like Harry, but Draco couldn't be certain over the rushing in his ears. He couldn't even hear the words the boy was saying and they were standing but a meter apart.

Except…perhaps Teddy wasn't voicing any to begin with. His lips were moving like he was trying desperately to convey something, but nothing seemed to be coming. Nothing but a small, stunned squeak as he started to falter. He shuffled on his feet, expression confused. His face fell or maybe he lost the ability to control it. If even the barest drop of that poison had touched his lips, this could mean the end. The very thought had Draco frozen when he should be reacting. When he should be saving.

He should be by Teddy's side.

He should ensuring the boy's safety.

But everything was a hazy, indeterminate blur….

And Draco found himself a coward once again.

Always faltering in the heat of the moment when it mattered the most.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco heard the door opening. He heard the strangled shout and felt a rush of air as someone tore past him. Stepping over the fallen body and making straight for Teddy just as his knees gave way.

Harry.

Of course it was Harry.

Harry was the absolute rock under pressure. He had saved their entire world time and time again all before even the thought of adulthood had crested. Harry was brave and didn't overthink. He did what needed to be done. Like in that moment when Draco was failing and frozen with fear. Harry didn't falter or hesitate. He was at the boy's side, cradling his head in his lap. Brushing the shocking pink locks from his face. Wiping a new sheen of sweat from his forehead and biting back tears. He was shouting for answers. He was trying to shake Draco out of his reverie, demanding answers. Holding his boy close.

Perfect. Harry Potter was perfect.

Draco swallowed back the ill feeling this thought gave him and took just a single step forward. "St. Mungo's," he snapped. " _Now_."

For only a brief second, Harry looked at Draco with a million more questions in his eyes. Draco would have to answer to every single one of them eventually. But both of them knew that now was not the time. He waved Charlie closer and the man, barely dressed in just a dressing gown, easily picked the boy up in his arms. Held him close to his chest and pressed his forehead to the top of his head. There was the threat of tears welling in his eyes, but he disapparated without a single break in his stone-faced composure.

"You should go, too," Draco said quietly once it was just the two of them. "I have to bring an investigative team in."

Even if Draco hadn't overheard the intimate moment a few minutes ago, it was quite obvious what the couple had been interrupted in doing. Harry himself was dressed in only a pair of pants – likely not his as they just barely hung on his hips – and he still looked out of it. It seemed all he could manage was sitting there on the hard floor. He had caught sight of the fallen vial of poison, shattered just out of McClain's fallen reach. His gaze was transfixed upon it and his breathing was ragged. But he still wasn't frozen. Not like Draco had been. He had a cool composure – like he was lost in thought. Calculating. Trying to reason and make sense of what he'd just walked into.

"My wards?"

Draco's cheeks darkened. "I, er…I disabled them."

The expected anger and surprise didn't come. Harry only nodded as if that sounded perfectly sane and normal. As if nothing was going to shock him now. He pulled himself up from the hardwood, still mechanically bobbing his head up and down. Still in a well-deserved state of shock.

"Please…please tell me he'll live."

The plea was so soft, Draco wasn't sure it was meant for him. He watched Harry closely, waiting for a change in his composure. Waiting for him to crumble.

As much as Draco wanted to give Harry that comfort, he couldn't. He didn't know what would happen. He didn't know if Teddy was going to be okay. He was almost entirely certain that the boy had ingested some of the poison. But he had no clue what such a little amount could do. He couldn't even comfort himself by pretending everything would be fine.

Lacking the words, Draco found all he could manage was to step forward and encircle Harry in his arms. Pull him close and tight. He half expected a rejection, but Harry simply folded himself right into Draco's chest. He nuzzled his cheek right in and closed his eyes. His breathing was uneven, sounding very much like he was trying not to cry. Trying to hold it together.

If this were another time, Draco would practically be begging Harry to lose that control. To be vulnerable with him again. Truly vulnerable. Like he had been with Charlie earlier…. Broken and beautiful and completely on display. Not this – real emotions always expressed just behind a curtain. Clouded. Always something there stopping him from being truly open.

Undoubtedly, that something was Draco himself. All of his actions years ago still affected them to this day. They kept Harry from being able to truly trust him. Who would trust someone who was always threatening to leave?

Draco sighed and caressed his fingers through Harry's hair. Savoring this small, stolen moment in the midst of devastation. Savoring the feel of this man in his arms, their hearts beating so loud against one another's body. Fighting the urge to strip down to a similar state of dress just so he could feel skin against skin. Just so they could be as close as they were once upon a time.

"I should…I should get dressed. And bring Charlie some clothes, too. He must be wondering where I am," Harry muttered against Draco's shoulder. He made no move to leave, despite the urgency in his tone. "I really should go…."

There was a life on the line outside of their intimate space. A life both men severely cared about. But if they acknowledged that in very real standards – by breaking whatever this moment was – that only made it all the more real. Teddy could be dying. Or already dead. Whatever the outcome, he would be irreparably scarred in uncountable ways.

And Draco was at fault.

No matter what happened, that guilt would surely eat him alive. Teddy had already been through so much in his little life. And here Draco was…piling more strife right on top of his still unsolved problems.

"You should go," Draco echoed, pushing Harry back just a bit. Ripping him off and feeling very much like he was losing a vital part of himself. "I'll be by…as soon as I can. If Teddy…." He found his words faltering as his thoughts drifted back to the darkness. Back to the guilt. "Tell him I love him," he quickly finished and a little less than roughly shoved Harry away.

Harry nodded, just once, and turned quickly on his heel. He stepped over McClain's fallen body like it was nothing – like he didn't even exist – and left the room in that quiet tenseness. Leaving Draco to pick up the pieces of the mess he had made.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah, it's been awhile since the last update. To say the least, this babymaking process has been frustrating. Recently learned that I am pregnant after being told initially that I wasn't. And since finding that out it's been nothing but issue after issue. So right now we're playing the waiting game to see if baby is sticking around...  
> This is probably too much information you guy's didn't ask for...so nevertheless, here's the next chapter that I  _finally_  managed to finish. And I'm super happy with it. So, if you could please please please leave a comment with your thoughts, I would love it! Any small ounce of happiness in these weird times keeps me afloat.

 

From the moment he touched down at St. Mungo's, Harry was bombarded with question after question.

" _What potion was he given?"_

" _How much did he ingest?"_

" _How could this have possibly happened?"_

" _Do you have a comment for the worried Prophet readers, Mr. Potter?"_

"Why was Malfoy even there?"

And Charlie was the absolute worst of them all.

Shrugging for what seemed like the thousandth time, Harry put on the most patient smile he could manage. Which didn't end up being all that patient. "I've already told you…I don't know. I don't know anything here so  _please_ …stop asking." In a nervous twitch, he ran his fingers through his hair. Again. On a normal day it was a mess, but right now he could be considered mental by image alone. "I'm just glad Draco was there. Otherwise…."

For as many questions were asked of him, it seemed Harry wasn't really allowed to have any of his own. Not a single one of his had been answered. Which seemed only fair, considering he didn't have any answers to give, either. They were stuck going hour upon hour in restless uncertainty.

The only hope he still had came from the fact that no one had told him Teddy was dead yet. He assumed someone would have said something by now, if that were the case. And healers kept coming and going from the room Harry and Charlie weren't allowed in. There had to be some sort of progress if everyone kept hustling about. That  _had_  to be a good sign. They wouldn't hurry for a corpse. Would they?

There was no comfort in the way Charlie reached for his hand. Undoubtedly he sensed Harry's nerves and frustration. He was feeling them, too. But his action felt merely mechanical. Like he knew he should try and comfort his husband, even though he currently had no capacity for it. "I just can't help but to feel like this is all his fault," he muttered, continuing the growing discomfort he was passing along to Harry. "If you had never gone to America…."

"But I  _did_  go to America," Harry snapped, standing abruptly. Pulling away from the angry energy radiating off of his husband. "Look…. I'm going to find the Head Healer again. See if there's any change. If you could, uh…. If you could get me a coffee or a really strong black tea or…or something, I would really appreciate that."

Charlie nodded solemnly and folded his hands together. Replacing the missing body heat with his own. "Bring back good news."

It took everything Harry had not to reply with a snarky comment. And he was hankering for a cigarette like it was no one's business. His nerves were itching and he felt restless in his own skin. This drug out uncertainty felt like it was killing him. Which was probably why he snapped at the healer when he saw her coming out of Teddy's room.

"When the  _hell_  are we going to hear anything about our son? My husband and I have been waiting for," he dramatically made a point of checking his watch, "two hours and twenty-six minutes."

The woman's face, which had the severity that said she was used to it all, didn't even twitch in response. She looked at her own watch and adjusted her glasses, the picture of collected. "Mr. Potter, I can understand your frustration. Honestly, I can." Harry opened his mouth, fully intending on making another sharp comment, but she held her hand up to silence him. "There are rules I have to follow that cannot be trumped by your fame, Mr. Potter. In cases like this, I answer to the DMLE first. As soon as I am allowed to share anything with you, I will. For now, please just let me and my team do our jobs."

Looking very much the scolded child, Harry watched the woman walk away. She reminded him a bit of Hermione…. And that led him to remember that he hadn't told anyone in the family yet about their current situation. Which led to a soft swear and a flicker of a look back to the seat his husband had occupied a moment ago. They'd sat in awkward silence too long between unanswered questions to have a proper conversation. But he assumed if Charlie had informed anyone, they would be here. Every single Weasley would have filled the waiting room of the Emergency wing, had they known.

Which was why…he wasn't going to tell them. Not yet.

Not when he didn't know anything himself. Not with the reporters buzzing around like vultures every chance they could slip past a nurse. Not with the nerves and anger dancing between Charlie and himself.

Just…not now. They could be angry at him later about it if they didn't understand.

"You really should be nicer to them, Potter. Wouldn't want your pristine reputation sullied in the papers…."

Closing his eyes with a soft sigh, Harry resisted the urge to step back into the man's arms. "I've tried to ruin myself too many times to count. They never seem to let me…."

Draco did the work for him. He closed the distance and enveloped the man in his warm hold. He kissed him just behind the ear and whispered his apology. Like those gentle touches and sincere words could fix anything and everything. And perhaps they could.

Rolling that terrifying thought around in his head, Harry turned and pushed at Draco's chest. "Charlie…," he offered up as an excuse and looked over his shoulder for good measure. Just to make sure his husband hadn't chosen that moment to return.

"I know," Draco agreed and backed away a step. "I know…." He danced from one foot to the other, his usually perfect composure seemingly shaken. "And, uh…I know why they won't let you see Teddy. Or tell you anything."

The look on Draco's face spoke louder than any explanation ever could. It broke Harry's heart clean in two, his thoughts instantly on the worst case scenario. "He's dead…," he whispered. Then shouted, without regard for who heard him, "He's dead, isn't he? What have you  _done_?"

His eyes scouring their surroundings with something like embarrassment, Draco rushed to shush him. " _Merlin_ , Harry, calm down. He's not dead. Alright? He's not dead. Teddy's not dead." He pulled Harry's desperate hands from his hair and smoothed it down. Putting him back together again. Holding him together – still fragile like a jigsaw puzzle. Still so close to breaking by misplaced touch.

"Then what could it be?" Harry's voice had dropped again, sounding just slightly more rational. But still looking frazzled and anxious.

Draco looked around again, pushing Harry off towards a more secluded hallway. One much quieter and without a single soul in view. The invading thought of going a few steps further and hiding themselves away in a storage closet crossed Harry's mind but he shook it away. It wasn't the right time, as much as he was desperate to forget where he was for even just a moment.

"The investigators found something."

All thoughts of sneaking off flew straight out the window. Harry blinked at Draco, like maybe he didn't hear him right. That statement could mean a thousand things. And he was just supposed to pick one out of thin air? "What does that even mean, Dray?" he asked. "They found  _what_?"

The words seemed caught in Draco's throat. They seemed difficult. They seemed…like they could shatter them both. He breathed in deeply and let it out slow, like releasing steam. "Well…blood. They found dried blood." Harry frowned. "In Teddy's bed. And…I was there the whole time. McClain couldn't have been the one to cause it. He didn't have the chance. And…that wasn't what he was after…." Draco cleared his throat, once again choking on the words. On the  _real_  words. On what he really meant.

"And the healers found traces of Obliviation. And…there was some…." Draco breathed heavily through his teeth. "I don't know how to say this, Harry…."

Harry was sure by now that he didn't want to hear. And he certainly didn't want to see the words come out of this man's mouth. Giving in to the most primal of his urges, he closed the distance between them and pressed his forehead into Draco's shoulder. "Just be out with it."

"Semen."

With a snort, Harry looked up. "He's a boy going through puberty. Of course there's semen in his bed."

"It's not his," Draco snapped, absolutely no mirth in his own face. "We tested it. The blood is…the semen isn't."

Selfishly, Harry had thought this situation could get no worse. The bad guy was caught and likely behind bars. The killings should stop. No more families would lose their children by McClain's hand. He thought it was over. That this last little hurdle with Teddy in the hospital was it. That this was the end of the newest shit show in his life.

But of course…the fates were never that kind. Not when it came to these two men in particular. They could just never catch a damned break.

His mouth suddenly dry, Harry flicked his tongue over his bottom lip. He had a deer-in-the-headlights look of shock when he once again pulled back from Draco. "What are you saying, Dray?" he asked on the only breath he felt he could spare. With how rapidly he was pulling air into his lungs, he still felt like he could pass out at any moment. Like his body wasn't keeping up. Like it might be shutting down.

Giving up….

He knew exactly what Draco was saying. He didn't need to stop his internal crisis to listen to him clarify it.

Teddy was being hurt. Violently. And all the signs had been there, Harry was sure. He had somehow just missed them. He had glanced right over the little bout of acting out. He had ignored how relieved the boy was to be away from home. He had ignored it all in favor of his own drama.

"Harry? Did you hear me?

Shaky and unsure, Harry shook his head back and forth and finally looked back up at Draco. "No…no, what?"

"He's awake," Draco repeated. His fingers were in the hair at Harry's temple, stroking his scalp with gentle pressure. "But they won't let you in just yet. I've been sent to…to talk to him. To explain what happened and ask about the…." He trailed off and replaced the rest of his words with a harsh exhale. "I have to eliminate the two of you as suspects before you're allowed to see him."

"Can't you just do a test and rule us out?" Harry babbled, his words quick and distressed. "I can only imagine how scared he is. He needs me."

Draco smiled, just barely. Just enough to still the shaking in Harry's breath. "I used to date the kid's father, Potter. He trusts me." In a blink-and-you'll-miss-it instant, Draco pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to Harry's wobbling bottom lip. "Don't you?"

The truth was, Harry wasn't sure there was another person alive that he trusted more. No, not even Charlie. Charlie hadn't been through the kind of shit Draco had. They were like two sides of a different coin, Harry and Draco. Two sides of a different war…. Both going through hell and coming back scarred. Charlie didn't have those scars. He didn't understand. And somehow that meant the most to Harry. Nodding slowly, he ran his fingers over where those definable scars – the ones he'd given – striped Draco's chest chest.

Stealing one last kiss, Draco left Harry standing there to process this new shake of his world. He made for Teddy's room, flashing his MACUSA badge at the guard on his door.

A fleeting thought of déjà vu hit Draco square in the face. Just a day before, he had been by Harry's side in a far-too-similar hospital room. And now, here he was, looking at his cousin lying so still and helpless on a too-big bed.

"Uncle Dray?"

Trying to muster the biggest smile he could, Draco stepped further into the room. Teddy was surrounded by that same monitoring haze. But he looked…far worse than Harry had. The haze wasn't a healthy green. It flickered between yellow and orange with every shaky breath he took. He was pale – probably as pale as Draco himself. And he was definitely having difficulty hiding the pain plainly written all over his face.

Draco had done this to him. Not directly…but it was definitely largely his fault.

"Hey, kiddo," he whispered, then cleared his throat of the emotion clogging his vocal chords. "How are you feeling?" He knew the answer to that question. He was likely feeling like all of his insides were melting. Disintegrating. There wasn't exactly an antidote for the poison McClain had given him and the healers had confirmed that he had indeed ingested some. At this point, they were doing whatever they could to keep him stable. The fact that he was awake and communicating was a good sign, they said.

Teddy forced a smile of his own, interrupted by a fit of coughing. "Not great," he muttered once he'd regained his breath. "And, uh…really confused."

Settling into the plush chair beside the boy's bed, Draco reached for his hand. Teddy eagerly gave it, squeezing back as hard as his little muscles would allow. "That's understandable. It's been a confusing night." Which was a massive understatement…. "Any questions you might have for me?"

"A lot," Teddy said with a frown and laboriously shifted to face Draco.

"Go on."

It started off simple enough. Teddy stuck to questions about the case. About McClain. And those were questions Draco could answer easily. He had made a stupid decision to use the boy as bait. But it was for the greater good. It had worked out. And Teddy would be okay. He would be okay because everyone in his life needed him to be. Specifically his fathers.

Their absence from his bedside was much harder to explain. It led to the difficulty of the questions Draco had to ask. And he wasn't quite ready for that. Or, more appropriately, he wasn't quite ready to hear the answers. "The healers won't let them in," Draco said gingerly. "Not yet."

"Not even Dad? Why not?"

And there it was. Draco breathed in, counting the seconds of the time he was wasting. All he had wanted was to help Teddy. To figure out what had him so wrecked and so scared. And now…here was his moment and he was freezing. Mostly, he just couldn't fathom this happening. He couldn't imagine it being real. It made him sick. And he knew if he found out who it was, it wasn't likely he'd be able to remain professional.

"Did someone Obliviate you?" Draco started carefully, no longer capable of looking the boy in the eye. "Do you know? Do you remember?"

"Isn't that something I'm not supposed to remember?"

Draco nodded steadily. "Normally. But…if someone who isn't trained to do it had performed the spell…. Things can go wrong. You might end up recalling things you weren't meant to."

It wasn't until Draco heard the boy sniffing back tears that he forced himself to look at Teddy again. And he wished he hadn't. That broken look had taken over every single one of his features. He was crumbling. Struggling.  _Hurting_  in ways Draco was sure he couldn't fix. Hesitant to even try, Draco sat up in his chair and scooted just a little closer. Gripping that hand back with what he hoped was a reassuring strength and whispering, "You can tell me anything, Teddy. You know that, right?"

Teddy nodded and the floodgates crashed open. "I promised not to say anything…. I'm not supposed to know. The memories…." His voice died on a squeaky sob. The meaning carried through painfully well on his tormented expression. "I'm not supposed to know…."

Between all the facts, Draco could only guess at the situation. That said, he had a pretty good hunch forming. His stomach churned at just the thought, but he needed to keep strong for this boy. He needed to keep a soft turn up to the corner of his lips and he needed to keep the panicked timbre from his voice. "I know this must be very painful for you, Teddy," he whispered, knowing anything louder would betray him. "I can only imagine how you must be feeling knowing the very little that I do…. But if you could give me something to work with, I promise you I will make whoever is hurting you pay the highest cost."

Without a doubt, Draco was ready to take a life if it came down to it.

"Please…don't do that, Uncle Dray," Teddy said sternly, knowing where Draco's mind had gone. Knowing the stories and the gossip and  _knowing_  just what it was he was thinking. "I don't think he could help himself. I don't think it's his fault. Not…all the time…."

"So you r-"

Teddy interrupted with a rushed stream of consciousness. Like he was afraid if he didn't get it out now, he might lose his bravery. "I get…. I get bits of things I can't explain. Pain I don't really remember. I feel like I'm afr-" His words broke off on a sob but he fought hard to regain them. "Like I'm afraid…all the time….

"You're going to ask me if I remember what happened. And…I do. Sort of. I know who has hurt me and who has tried to cover it up. I have empty memories of how it happened in the past. Almost like…how if you look at a hollowed out egg you can still tell what it is and you can think you'd know what's inside. But if you were to crack it open, not knowing it was empty…you'd just find a bit of a shock. It still feels and looks like an egg. But you don't have the substance to confirm that. You just have…bits and pieces of a broken shell. Bits and pieces that make sense once you put them back together…but apart and shattered…."

Frowning, Teddy trailed off. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet Draco's. Taking in the mix of feelings playing upon his face. Nodding like he understood the confusion all too well. "It's happened since the first time. Since the Obliviation. No one else knows that. I'm almost certain…." He shrugged. "If I tell you the name, can you promise me no one else will get hurt?"

Although he felt like he could make no promises, Draco nodded encouragingly. He could make amends later if necessary. All that mattered right now was the name.

The name that fell from Teddy's wobbling lips a mere second later. The name that put almost every unsolvable puzzle piece back together. The name that was likely to throw the world of the person he loved most into complete and total chaos.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this chapter. It was difficult to write and I was working on my Scorbus 30 Day Challenge. Anywho, the mystery has been solved! Any of you guess it right?

 

Harry shouldn't have listened in. It was incredibly inappropriate. And probably illegal. But it was the Ministry's fault, really, for not putting up proper warding. Anyone could have eavesdropped. Especially anyone with a skill for such spells.

Harry also shouldn't have rushed out of St. Mungo's without saying anything. He should have at least spoken to Draco. Formulated a plan. Or found Charlie and rationalized what he'd overheard. Or stayed to console his godson.

His  _son_.

But Harry had never been much of a rational thinker. He wasn't a planner. The skill of calculating wasn't one he possessed. So there he stood, without a plan, in front of the house he could never look at the same way again, shaking. Shaking with anger. Shaking with uncertainty. Shaking from the restlessness that comes from holding back the desire to throw a killing curse. He could count on one hand how many times he'd felt so vividly fuming, but it had never felt like this.

Nothing could ever compare to this.

Feeling very much like he could combust any second, Harry conquered the last step of the front porch. He lifted his fist and knocked – just once. If he were to go any further than that, he may just barge right through the front door. And, as satisfying as that would be, he was unlikely to get the answers he was after acting like that.

In his irate state, Harry was clearly irrational. The moment he heard the door creak open, he nearly snapped. He nearly reached out to choke the person behind it. Or punch them. Or…hex them if he could manage the spellwork through his fury.

"…'arry?"

Harry hadn't expected Fleur to answer the door. He staggered back a step, closing his eyes to steel his nerve. To hold back the violence threatening to burst from within. "I need to speak with your husband," he said, soft and slow. Measured.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Fleur looked behind her into the house. " _Quatre_ …," she muttered before turning back. "'arry,  _il dort_. Sleeping. 'e's sleeping." In the wee hours of the morning, her French accent was heavier than Harry had heard it in years.

"It's important, Fleur. If you get him for me, you can go back to sleep."

With a dramatic sigh, she waved him inside. "'e can be  _grognon_  early in ze morning. I warned you." With that, Fleur trudged up the stairs and left Harry in the dark of the entryway.

Being alone and still allowed Harry much more reflective time than he would have liked in that moment. A few moments ago, he was fully intent upon doing something unforgettable. The longer he sat with his feelings, the softer that desire was becoming. More than anything, he just wanted answers. And if he could find some way to get a bit of that aggression out in the process, he probably wouldn't pass it up. After the last few days he had, he certainly had a lot to spare.

By the time Bill descended the stairs, Harry was fully conflicted. He could only manage to stand and stare, insides squirming. Like he was afraid of the potential just lingering below the surface of his skin. "This couldn't wait a few more hours?" Bill chuckled, wrangling his hair into a wayward bun atop his head. "Not that I can't make time for you whenever you need it, but we were up 'til almost midnight with Louis. We're starting toilet training, which means he thinks he has to wee every half hour. We never had this much trouble with the girls. Did Teddy-"

The instant his boy's name came out of Bill's mouth, Harry snapped. The anger returned in full force, presenting itself with a sharp and unexpected punch right to the square of his brother-in-law's jaw. His knuckles were throbbing just after contact, matching the speed of his racing pulse. The pain didn't register initially, though, just the sound. The shocked holler and the 'pop' of something potentially breaking. "Did you think he wouldn't  _tell_?" he shouted, trying to combat the rushing in his ears.

Like he was stunned, Bill cradled his jaw and stayed silent for a long moment. He wouldn't look Harry in the eye. He looked guilty, even without a real confession. But, more than anything, he looked slightly relieved. "I had hoped he would come clean eventually," he whispered, such a contrast to Harry's own torrential outrage.

"Come  _clean_? Do you think  _he_  has something to feel guilty about?"

Bill frowned, flexing his jaw. "I knew he would break eventually…. He's not the strongest. Not when it comes to you." Harry opened his mouth to yell again, but Bill's next words froze the words in his throat. "I think the only thing that kept him quiet this long was family loyalty."

Harry had been relieved that they were on the same page. That Bill knew what he'd done so the words didn't have to be spoken aloud. But now he was a starting to feel like they were on two different wavelengths. Feeling that anger and resentment crawl back under his skin. "What?" he pushed out.

"Wasn't Charlie the one who told you...?"

The world as Harry knew it had already shifted. There wasn't much more, he had thought, that could shock him. Or, perhaps, he was just  _hoping_  this disgusting revelation was it for a lifetime. He was also hoping to have his husband by his side to handle this ordeal. He was hoping to have his family even after all of this. And now…. "Charlie knew?" he managed to gasp out between short, almost-panicked breaths. "What the  _fuck_  is wrong with you two?"

" _Mon loup_? Is everyzing alright?"

"No!" Harry shouted, fists clenched and ready to throw again.

Fleur visibly bristled up on the landing, taking a step down before she must have thought better of it. "Bill?"

"Bambi…get the children and stay upstairs," Bill said solemnly, only raising his eyes to look at his wife for the briefest of seconds. "No matter what you hear, just stay there. After I'm gone…send a letter to Percy. Tell him to meet me at the Ministry. I think I'll need his representation."

At first, Fleur looked as if she was going to protest. But Bill's somber, serious tone was hard to argue with. " _Je t'aime_ ," she said soft before turning to do as she was instructed. Leaving the men alone with all of Harry's hostile energy once again.

"I'm not going to resist," Bill muttered as Harry stepped closer. "If you want to curse me or…simply arrest me. I won't resist. I deserve it all. I'm…I'm  _sick_  and I deserve it."

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Harry was supposed to be able to barge into this man's home and destroy  _his_  peace. He was supposed to be able to rage and throw things and get angry. He was supposed to be able to avenge his son's violent loss of innocence with every ounce of fire and brimstone deep within him. Bill's surrender wasn't supposed to be soft or easy. He shouldn't get off without pain. He wasn't supposed to be remorseful. There was  _supposed_  to be a fight. Harry needed a fight.

"Harry…you shouldn't be here…. Why are you here?"

"I've told him I won't resist. Arrest me.  _Please_  arrest me. I'll confess to all of it."

Frowning, Harry pulled his eyes up from their dazed spot on the floor. Bill's hands were up in complete contrition. His wand was gingerly sat at the bottom of the staircase. He was giving up and denying Harry his right to hurt him. An officer was already detaining him with a binding charm and all Harry had managed were some harsh words and one good punch. Draco was at Harry's side, his hand gentle upon his arm. Asking questions Harry wasn't ready to answer. Telling him everything would okay even though they both knew nothing from here out would be normal again.

"You have to bring Charlie in, too," he said on little more than a whisper. "My…my  _husband_  is guilty, too."

Those words should have brought some sort of happiness to Draco. He wanted to be able to take satisfaction in the ultimate demise of Harry's marriage. But the situation called for a little more class than that. And he couldn't find anything but sympathy from the shattered look in this man's eyes. "It's not your fault," he reassured, even though he knew Harry wouldn't listen. If roles were reversed, he wouldn't either. He would be just as angry and feel just as guilty. The difference between them, however, was likely how much restraint it took to keep Draco from killing Weasley on the spot.

Draco poured all of his concern into Harry's wellbeing to keep himself from doing just that. He instructed the patrol officers with him to take Weasley in. Process him and stick him in an interrogation room until someone was ready to take his statement. Make the sick fuck as uncomfortable as legally possible. "Harry, I need you to take a deep breath," he warned, circling his arms around the man under the guise of side-along apparition. Trying to instill even an ounce of comfort into his shaking limbs.

"You listened in, didn't you?" Draco asked once their feet touched down again in the St. Mungo's lobby. Harry nodded almost imperceptibly, shuffling along beside him. His eyes fully trained at his feet and his arms crossed tight over his chest. "Of course, you did. I probably would have, too…."

"Draco, I need you to let me talk to Charlie alone."

With a sigh, Draco stopped outside of the Emergency Wing door. As much as he didn't want to obey that request, he knew he was in no place to deny Harry something like that. His world was shifting and changing around him and he was helpless to stop it. The most Draco could probably offer in support was to let him have a moment with his guilty husband. Maybe he could get at least a few answers to the millions of questions that must be plaguing his mind. "I'll wait here. He needs to come with us when you're done."

"I know." Harry was past angry and into numb. He was in denial and wished very much that he could stay there. He wished he didn't have to be the one to confront his husband about his role in hiding the abuse done to their son. He wished he could run. Take Draco with him and just… _hide_  from all this shit in his 'perfect' life.

More than anything, he wished Draco had stayed all those years ago. None of this would have happened if he had just  _stayed_.

Charlie was just where Harry had left him before running off to confront his brother. He was still sitting in those same chairs, waiting for an answer about Teddy's condition. Waiting to be able to see him. Waiting to be able to comfort him. The very thought turned Harry's stomach and made it hard to look at him. Much less sit beside him.

"Where'd you go?" Charlie asked on a yawn, looping his arm around Harry's shoulder. So unaware of the way he tensed at the contact.

Pushing the arm off, Harry angled so he was facing his husband as head-on as possibly. "Shell Cottage," he stated and then just waited. Waited for some sort of flicker in Charlie's demeanor. Waited for any hint of remorse or shame.

All he got was a puzzled knit of the brow. "Why would you go there at this hour?"

"The Ministry found evidence of someone hurting Teddy. Aside from what happened last night," Harry said solemnly, eyes still peeled for any sign of recognition where only a stony expression remained. "And Teddy gave up your brother as his abuser. Bill's been arrested."

"That's terrible…," Charlie ruminated before standing abruptly. "What, uh…what did he say about that? It seems pretty outlandish. Bill wouldn't hurt anyone…."

Charlie was wringing his hands as he paced and Harry took an unhealthy satisfaction in making him sweat. "Bill confessed. He's not denying anything. And he's actually given the name of someone who helped him cover it up…."

The way Charlie looked at Harry once he understood he'd been caught had Harry sure he was going to run. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slack. He was the epitome of fucked. "I can explain…," he whispered, dropping instantly to his knees before his husband. His hands were tight and desperate around Harry's, threatening to cut off circulation. "You have to let me explain.".

"So, explain. Explain to me why you would allow something so disgusting to happen to  _our son_."

Pretty much as expected, Charlie went silent a moment. He rested his forehead on their clasped hands and conjured up some tears to help aide his case. Not that there was any grace left for him now. "It was an accident, darling. Only an accident…." Harry's lip curled, finding it hard to believe something like that could be an accident. He pulled his hands away roughly and forced Charlie to look him in the eye.

"Teddy stayed with me when you were on overnights. Remember? Back before you went to desk duty…. This is why I asked you to go to desk duty. I didn't want it to happen again." Charlie turned his head to the side and pressed a kiss to Harry's palm. "Bill stays at my home in Romania during the full moon. He can get violent and it's safer when he's not around Fleur or the kids. Usually he just stays in the spare bedroom and doesn't make much fuss. I didn't think it would be a problem to have them both there.

"But…apparently Teddy has enough werewolf in him to put out a scent. And…apparently Bill found that he couldn't help himself…."

The facts and reasons added up. They made rational sense, Harry supposed. Biology was inevitable. But knowing that didn't change his anger. It didn't calm him in the slightest. If anything, it made the heat in his veins even worse. Especially because of the cover-up.

"I don't think Bill has forgiven himself. He was in tears when he told me what happened…. He just kept saying he was sorry over and over and over again. And Teddy wouldn't move. He was in shock. So…I thought I would erase it all. I took care of it. I handled it so you would never have to see him like that, Harry. And Bill swore to me it would never happen again. Teddy shouldn't even remember any of it happened."

It was suddenly a very real fact that Harry didn't even know the man he had married. This was a side of Charlie he had never seen. This was six years of his life down the drain. This was something he could never get back and something he could never fix. It was a stain on Teddy's wellbeing and mental health and something Harry had walked right into his life.

With incredible restraint, Harry stood and managed to keep his shaking hands from reaching for his wand. There was so much he wished he could do to Charlie in that moment, but now was not the time. He would just have to find a way to be satisfied with justice being served. "Your brother is a liar," Harry said solemnly, pushing his husband's desperate hands away from his legs. "The evidence they found…it means Bill hurt Teddy recently. Probably when  _you_  made Bill bring him home while I was in hospital. So, that's on you. So are all of the other times it's happened. Because it's happened several times. And Teddy remembers every single one of them. Even the one you tried and failed to erase from his memory.

"Still think you can explain this all away?"

Charlie followed him into a standing position, mouth flapping like he'd forgotten how to speak. He was obviously stunned, but had absolutely no right. He looked like he might try and touch Harry again, so he stepped back towards the door. "Just stay here, alright? They have to take you in to be… _interrogated_. Fuck. Just stay here, Charlie. If you ever loved me, you'll cooperate."

"I do love you," Charlie whispered, sounding heartbroken. "I love you and I love Teddy. All I want is for us to be a family."

" _No_ ," Harry snapped and walked away as briskly as he could. When he looked back after reaching the door, Charlie was still standing where he was told to. His head bowed and his eyes stuck on Teddy's guarded door.

"Just fucking arrest him," Harry snapped as soon as Draco met him at the door. He also snuck a look in Charlie's direction, likely just making sure he hadn't taken off. "And find me a Time Turner so I can go back in time and never marry that piece of shit."

A haunted echo of a smile graced Draco's lips. "You may just have to settle for a divorce…and maybe some counseling."

Harry nodded, giving in to his need for comfort. He stepped into Draco's space, wrapping his arms around the man's neck. Tears streaming down his face and into the folds of Draco's collar. Gentle, comforting fingers caressed his back while soft coos filled his ears. Outside of the current situation, it would have all felt so perfect and like an ideal future. But in that present moment, it just felt like the culmination of a thousand bad decisions. "I need you to do your job, okay?" Harry sobbed, squeezing Draco tighter before pushing away from the safety of his embrace. "I need you to go be the good guy. And when you're done…I need you to come back to me. No more running. You come back to me and you come back to our boy."

"Our boy?" Draco whispered, holding back his own tears with little success.

"Teddy's always been more yours than he was Charlie's. Especially now. And he needs you.  _We_  need you." Harry stepped back against the door, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before pushing it open. "But you have to go be the hero first. For me, because I can't be the one to do it this time."

After Draco's confident nod, Harry finally headed for Teddy's room. He ignored the chaos of Charlie's arrest behind him, nodding to the guard still stationed outside. "You need to ask me before allowing anyone outside of hospital staff in, understood?" Once he was certain those orders were clear, he shut himself inside. Teddy looked so frail and helpless on that bed…. Trying to avoid looking, he curled himself around the boy's body on the thin mattress. Encompassing his shivering frame in his body heat and whispering promises of everything being okay now.

"Everything  _has_  to be okay now…."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been...far too long since the last update on this fic. In the span of six months, I went through two ectopic pregnancies. I've been a bit too depressed to write. But here we are. I persevered...sorta. Still very much a mess.... I believe there will be only one more chapter after this? Don't quote me on that. We'll see ;) But I am planning another installment following Teddy's life after the fact. I'm very excited about that!  
> So, let's hear it! I always love a comment. I love to know what you thought!

 

Harry Potter thought Draco Malfoy was a hero.

It was probably the first time in the history of their lineage that the word 'hero' had been said alongside any Malfoy name. It was laughable. It was ridiculous.

It was literally the only thing Draco could think about.

The thought wouldn't leave his head. The words just kept echoing over and over again, always in Harry's soft and pleading voice.

" _You have to go be the hero first. For me…."_

Draco had never once thought of himself that way. Even with the job he had now and the case on his plate, he couldn't see himself in that light. Even with the events of the last few days…. He had done too much wrong and hurt too many people in his life to be allowed such a title of adoration. Accepting it felt like a sham. It felt like trying to shove an obvious Slytherin peg into a very Gryffindor hole.

It felt like too much pressure and Draco was certain he couldn't ever live up to its standard. No matter what he did.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco raised his lost gaze from the papers strewn in a strategic mess over his temporary desk. Harry's desk. Harry's desk that was covered in pictures of his friends and his family and his filthy husband. And his Teddy. Happy, grinning moving photographs of his godson who were so oblivious to the pain the real child was in. Bitter reminders of what exactly it was that he was striving to fix here. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice gruff and dark from fatigue and the weight of responsibility he was harboring inside.

Harry's assistant, whose name Draco couldn't remember – maybe Tina... or Jenn? – was blinking at him. She looked almost as haunted as he did. Most of the office had been staring at him like this. Like they wanted to say something in support of his hard work or perhaps offer an apology but didn't know if it was their place. Or maybe Draco was reading too much into things because he felt like all eyes were on him, waiting for him to find a way to fuck all of it up again. Per his usual. "Ehm…," she started and Draco gave her the best attempt at a smile he could muster to encourage her to continue. "The officers have brought Andrew McClain up again from the cells. And, again, they have asked me to relay the urgency of getting his confession? Apparently he still only wants to talk to you."

Of course McClain only wanted to give his statement to Draco. He was the only ex-Death Eater on the case. The man likely thought Draco would be sympathetic to his cause. That he might get off easy by talking to him instead of one of the Ministry's war-hardened, Potter-obsessed Aurors. Not that he wasn't a bit Potter-obsessed and war-hardened himself….

Even just a glimpse of that thought caused a smattering of red splotches to canvas his alabaster cheeks. "Thank you for letting me know. I-I still have some prepping and digging to do before I can interrogate him. I just want to be prepared. Let them know I'll try my best to be down before the end of the day."

Day in and day out for near a week, Draco had been making these same excuses. He was being a coward. He was being slimy. He was avoiding dealing with what was now reality, holed up in this office that smelt like stale cigarettes and the undertone of Harry's cheap cologne. He really should have gotten the whole ordeal over with by now. He shouldn't have put it off. The waiting was killing him and so was this cramped, little room overloading his senses. But he couldn't make himself face that man again. He couldn't force himself to walk just down the hall and confront the monster he had lured right into the best parts of his life.

The instant the door clicked shut again, Draco felt the weight of innocent eyes boring into him. All five pictures of Teddy were watching him. Judging him. Waiting to see what he would do next. "He almost  _killed_  you.  _I_ …I almost killed you…." Sighing heavily, he flipped one picture over, causing the other four to jump and raise their brow. Three-year-old Teddy recovered first, giggling and snuggling closer to his godfather. Looking far less scarred and scared than the other images of his later self.

It was so easy to depict the sadness in his eyes now that Draco knew to look for it. It was so much easier to pinpoint when exactly he had been broken between these perfectly framed pictures. There was a certain happiness missing in the small age gap. "If I had just stayed around…."

He'd run the coulda, shoulda, wouldas through his head a million times over already. They all ended with the same conclusion – Draco never should have left seven years previous. A fact he couldn't change. And, honestly, a fact he wasn't sure he wanted to change. Changing that meant he lost Scorpius and Shea and his little home away from the pressures of his family name. Losing all of that wasn't worth the easy fix for everything else, as selfish as that made him.

"The only real way to fix things now…is to end them, I suppose," Draco sighed through his nose. The four pictures left of Teddy tilted their heads in unison, not understanding. They didn't have the context. They didn't even know what it was he had to fix. Breathing another long, heavy breath through his nostrils, he slowly flipped all of the remaining pictures surrounding him over. Trying to think without the pressure of so many prying eyes.

" _No more running. You come back to me and you come back to our boy."_

Slamming his hands hard upon the desk, Draco pushed into a standing position. He'd made up his mind. Or the ghost of Harry's strong will did it for him. Either way, it was high time he stopped pushing this off. It was high time he grew a pair and at least pretended to be the hero Harry Potter wanted him to be.

What was it about Harry Potter, anyway? How was it that any subtle suggestion from his lips could bury a flourishing seed of hope inside a person? How did he go from a mere child to the persuasive  _man_  he was now. How did he just…so easily cause everyone around him to fall in line? To want to be their best self just for a glimpse of how it felt to be him for just one second? How did he so effortlessly wiggle right into the root of people's insecurities and pull out the best parts of them?

How could this man make Draco Malfoy, of all people, want to be a bloody hero?

"Hey, Jenn, could you-"

"Gina."

"Right, Gina…." Draco raked his fingers through his hair before haphazardly tying his hair back. Containing himself for the world to see while inside he was far less than perfect. "What interrogation room did the officers take McClain to?"

A hint of a smile crossed the woman's lips. "Number three," she said gently, even hazarding to reach over and gently squeeze Draco's arm. Showing that little bit of awkward support in the absence of really knowing what to say.

"Thank you," Draco said gruffly, all but tearing his arm away. He needed to harden himself. He needed to be that image he presented to the world – cold and aloof. It was that personification that would get him through this harrowing process. It was that personification that could avenge Teddy's assault.

But that outside façade did nothing to quell his churning stomach as Draco made his way down the hall. His hands shook, so he shoved them in his pockets. His heart pounded faster than was healthy and his breathing was rough and ragged. He was a mess. He was falling apart.

But he was there and he  _had_  to pull himself together.

"Has he said anything at all?" Draco asked with a far more leveled voice than he had expected.

The guard on his door slowly shook his head, waving his wand in a memorized pattern over the door handle. "Good luck, Mr. Malfoy," he grunted and pushed the door wide open.

Andrew McClain didn't look guilty. Or, more appropriately, he didn't look like he  _thought_  he was guilty. He looked smug. He looked just as Draco had remembered him from the week previous. Like he had not a fear in the world, even though he was currently sitting in secure bindings in a foreign Ministry. "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy. I'm so glad you finally decided to visit me. Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a fresh baked cookie?" He smirked and Draco couldn't help but to roll his eyes.

He closed the door behind him, slowly while he tried to gather his thoughts back into one reasonable place. "Funny," he said dryly, taking cautious, measured steps to the chair across from McClain. Rationally, he knew this man couldn't hurt him where he was. But he still felt uneasiness in his limbs as he got closer. "I've been told you'll only speak to me. Why is that?"

McClain grinned as Draco settled into the steel chair. The cold sunk into his bones, shivers running down his spine. "Because you understand," he whispered, nodding down towards Draco's forearm.

With a snort, Draco moved his left arm under the table. His faded Dark Mark was covered – as it often was – but that didn't mean they both didn't know it was very much still there. Only a ghost of what it once was, but still a daily reminder of his past sins. "I can assure you, I don't."

"Are they listening in? Is our conversation being transcribed?" McClain leaned in and just barely uttered, "Are you still trying to convince Potter and all his followers that you're reformed? You can be honest with me…I won't tell…."

" _I need you to go be the good guy…."_

Draco closed his eyes to both the echo of Harry's voice in his head and the pangs of doubt needling through his thoughts. "There will be a transcription, yes, but I doubt anyone will need to review it. We have enough evidence that we won't need proof of your confession. My job today is really just to get you to give yourself up for the murder charges. Both the Ministry and MACUSA would like to see this wrapped up as cleanly as possible. They want you behind bars, but don't think we should have to waste time in the courts. Either way, you're caught, Mr. McClain. I'm merely here as a courteous formality."

"And what  _are_  these murders you're trying to pin on me?"

With him, Draco brought the massive folder of case files for every victim. Including Teddy. His fingers lingered over the manila cover before he wrenched it open and pushed pictures across the table. Pictures of every single autopsy – raw and brutal. "Fifteen children, all but one located in America, all poisoned in their beds in the middle of the night. Plus, of course, the attempted murder of Edward Lupin in Harry Potter's own home. A ballsy but stupid m-"

"So it lived."

Wincing, Draco abandoned his courageous train of thought. Absolutely thrown. "Yes…the  _boy_  is alive."

It was McClain's turn to snort in derision. "That  _thing_  is no mere boy, Malfoy. It's an abomination. A half-breed. An orphan who should have been slaughtered right alongside its filthy parents. Really, that ancient and most noble house of Black has quite shriveled up and died, hasn't it?"

Teddy and Draco really were the last, purest parts of the Black family line. Which wasn't saying much considering Teddy wasn't even on the tree and Draco…. Well, had Great Aunt Walburga still been alive, surely Draco would have been burned from it, as well. Had she been alive, there wouldn't be anything left of the tree, truth be told. "Perhaps that's for the best," Draco countered, crossing his arms and leaning back. "And that boy is no abomination. You are."

" _I_  am a well-groomed, pureblood son trying to right the world!"

This right here was the biggest reason Draco didn't want to talk to this man. McClain was deranged and there was no seeing reason for someone like that. Not when they were embedded this deep. "By murdering innocent children," Draco said under his breath before jabbing one of the pictures with his finger. "Aren't you proud enough of your beliefs to own up to your handiwork? Aren't you proud enough to tell the world that you are the sick fuck who poisoned sixteen children?"

McClain leaned in to admire the pictures, his head tilting to the side and a greasy smile slipping over his lips. "These aren't children, young Malfoy. These are…. These are stains upon our sacred community. Or have you forgotten your upbringing? Have you forgotten everything you fought for eleven years ago?"

"Did you fight at the Battle of Hogwarts?" Draco asked, fists clenched and ready for a confrontation. "Were you there to see my actions that day? Were you there to see the way my family and my own convictions were torn apart? Were you there to see the horror in my eyes as I watched my parents' misguided comrades  _kill_  my classmates? Because I don't remember seeing your ugly ass there on the frontline!"

"If only I had been…." A cloud slid over McClain's eyes, darkening them even further. "It's my biggest regret, not being at the Dark Lord's side at his moment of weakness. So all I can do now…is carry out work that would make. Him.  _Proud_. And, oh…he would be so proud of me…."

There was not a single doubt in Draco's mind that Voldemort would have been rather proud of Andrew McClain's "accomplishments". A thought that made his stomach turn even sourer. "Is that your goal, then? To impress a dead psychopath?"

"No," McClain said with a small shake of his head. "No, my goal is to cleanse our world so we can be strong. Strong like  _he_  imagined. I'm merely carrying out his good work. Someone has to. Someone has to have the courage to do it."

"This is not courage," Draco muttered. His vision roamed over the photographs again as he sighed. "This is cowardice. This is…not being able to accept the new world as it is. This is pining for a dirty past that never should have been. This is murdering children because of a fear of the future.  _Children_. Children who didn't even know enough about themselves to think they'd done something wrong. Except for Martina Guererra. You broke your pattern with her. In every way. She was a pureblood. She was female. She was even a tad older than the boys. Why? Why did she deserve to die in your eyes?"

"Tainted magic."

His words weren't exactly a confession, but it was close enough. The corner of Draco's lips curled in a hint of a smile, a modicum of peace sitting just below the surface. "So you broadened your scope, is that it? You found that you were getting away with the Muggle-born children and decided it was time to move on to different fish? To get pickier?"

McClain shrugged. "Not all witches and wizards make the cut. Some are…hopeless cases. Unteachable."

"So why not just recommend against sending her an acceptance letter?" Draco shuffled the pictures around, finding the most recent and vivid one. "Was it really easier to sneak past her parents' extensive wards? To force her so hard to take that potion it left bruises? To give her a slow and painful death, her insides melting inside while she lay there paralyzed and helpless? Was it really easier to  _kill_  her and get caught? Does this seem easier to you than just, perhaps, doing your job? Even if the way you went about it might have been shady, at least you wouldn't be sitting here facing murder charges…."

"And leave a stain upon the magical community?" Rolling his eyes, McClain leaned back in his seat. He looked like he was almost over the conversation. Like Draco was on borrowed time, since he wasn't playing along. "You really don't understand, do you? Such a waste of potential…. Such a disgrace."

"I'm just trying to understand your mindset," Draco countered, not sure anymore if he wanted this conversation to end. Not yet. He didn't have all his answers. "You tried to kill my cousin. That makes me a bit reticent towards your cause."

A sickening smile curled at McClain's lips, but he didn't meet Draco's eyes. Not out of shame, necessarily, but Draco couldn't quite place another reason why. Maybe he no longer saw them as equals? "That thing should be put down, just like all the others. All the Mudbloods and half-breeds and…." He breathed heavily, raising his hands like he wanted to rake his fingers through his hair in frustration, but found it impossible with the bindings. Slamming his arms back down on the table, he finally leveled his eyes so full of hate back on Draco. Boring into him. "That Guererra atrocity. There was an obvious deformity in that thing's genes. Barely functioning above a Squib's potential and  _still_  the Board wanted her accepted into the school. They were gonna do away with my job, you know. Said this wasn't the "dark ages" anymore. Anyone with magic could attend, they said. Any presenting child across America would be welcomed in with open arms, no matter how much of a disgrace they were. So I had to do it. I had to do it all.

"Yes. Yes, I did it. I killed all of those disgusting  _things_. I can name them all. I can tell you where I found the potion. All of it. I'll be proud to go down for this. Especially if that means someone else will know about it and take up in my stead. This won't be the last of our cause. Mark my words. Our comeuppance has only just begun, Malfoy. You best get back on the right side of history before it really is too late."

Draco had everything he needed. He had a confession. A very willing and disturbing confession to all of it, hand-signed and delivered on a silver platter. But it didn't feel like he had gotten in everything he wanted to say. He didn't call this man all the names on the tip of his tongue. He didn't get to shout every single child's name and demand an apology. Or justice. Or…something that felt like a resolution. Yes, they were putting away a murderer, but it didn't feel very final. It didn't feel over yet.

Those children were all still very much dead. There was no bringing them back, not even if their killer had been caught. Their parents would still grieve them for the rest of their lives and the world would never know the magic they might have produced. McClain had left an irreparable hole in magic. Who knew what those children could have become.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Draco pulled the photographs back. He was so grateful they weren't enchanted – they were lifelike enough and just touching them made him uneasy. "I learnt long enough ago, Mr. McClain, what exactly the right side of history is. Someone like you most certainly is not on that side." He shoved everything back into the file, tucking it under his arm. Hoping he never had to look through it again. "This is goodbye, Mr. McClain. I've no clue where you're to end up…but my hope is Azkaban. I've never known anyone to be more deserving of the Dementor's Kiss than you."

Andrew McClain gave no fuss when the guards came to take him away. If anything, he looked satisfied in his fate. Like he believed every word he had said. Going down in infamy and all that. Draco watched him go with that proud smirk on his face, sure that in another dimension this could have been his own life. Had he never set himself on the right path at the right moment, he might still be living in similar delusion.

But thanks to Harry Potter….

With a resigned sigh, Draco walked back towards Harry's office. Sealing himself inside and allowing himself to breathe normal for the first time since this case fell into their laps. Even though it was followed by immense guilt, he felt a definite ease from being done with the whole mess.

" _And when you're done…I need you to come back to me."_

With the door to his back, Draco let a full-fledged smile slide over his entire countenance. He was going home. The one wish he had secretly harbored for seven years. Obviously, he had never dreamed it would be under these circumstances…. But he couldn't find a reason to complain with the outcome. Slowly, he peeled himself up off the door and threw the file onto the desk. It took all of his restraint not to send an ignition spell at it. "Fuck this," he whispered, up-righting the pictures he'd tipped over one-by-one. The last one he grabbed happened to be of Teddy, Harry, and Charlie on the couple's wedding day. Smiling and laughing like not a thing could be wrong. Like it was the happiest day of their lives. Scoffing, he nearly set it back down hard enough to shatter the glass in the frame. A split second before it hit the wood surface, he stopped himself and pulled it close again. "And fuck  _you_ ," he spat, fiddling with the frame until the back popped off.

A mere minute later, every trace of Draco Malfoy was gone from the office. He walked out with his head held high – proud. A hero. Only two shreds of evidence remained to signify he had ever stepped foot into the Ministry again.

The guilty man currently being sentenced to rot for the rest of his life behind bars.

And the torn family photo perfectly positioned in the middle of Harry Potter's desk, conveniently missing the corner where Charlie's face used to reside. A corner crushed in Draco's fist as he made his way down to the Atrium. A corner of mere paper that meant the start to something new and something real.

A restart.

A happy ending.

Or as happy as it could really get for Harry Bloody Potter.


End file.
